Family Values
by fvhardy
Summary: Fenton Hardy’s career often comes before his family until a nightmare family vacation forces him to reevaluate what matters…
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Okay boys, here we are," said Laura Hardy as she pulled up in front of a quaint log cabin. Colossal oak trees stretched around the house as far as the eye could see, and a glimmer of water was discernable through the trees from the lake in the distance.

"All right!" six-year-old Joe exclaimed, and was out of the car before Laura had even turned off the engine.

"Mom, do you need a hand with the bags?" another voice piped up from the back seat.

Laura turned around and smiled at the serious face. "It's okay, Frank. Why don't you go and play with Joe while I bring everything in and unpack?"

"Are you sure?" Frank asked.

"Positive, honey. Thanks for asking, but I want you to go have fun." Laura tousled his dark hair and Frank smiled at her as he opened the door and slid out of the car.

"Frank! C'mere! You gotta come see this!" Laura could hear a small voice calling gleefully from behind a large tree.

"Joe Hardy! You'd better not be looking for another bee's nest!" his mother called out sternly. "I don't want a repeat of what happened at the park!"

Laura frowned as her blond haired son emerged from behind a tree and looked at her guiltily.

They had gone on a family picnic to the park two months ago, and Joe had found a bee's nest in a nearby tree which he had very kindly knocked to the ground in order to share his discovery with his family.

Unfortunately, the bees hadn't taken too kindly to being disturbed, and the whole family had had to run to the nearby pond in order to escape the swarm. Joe's father had grounded him for a week.

"I'm not, I promise, Mom!" Joe answered truthfully. He really wasn't interested in finding another bee's nest. He'd gotten into enough trouble the last time. Besides, they were in the woods now and there were far more interesting things to look for.

_Like skunks for instance_…

Joe wanted to find one and see if they really smelled as bad as everyone said they did.

Laura smiled at the earnest little face. "Okay, Joe. Just be good, alright? I'm going to unpack and make us some lunch. What would you boys like?"

"Pizza!" answered the boys in unison and grinned at one another.

"Pizza it is," their mother agreed. "Don't wander away anywhere! I'll call when lunch is ready."

Laura Hardy smiled at her sons as they began to chatter excitedly and climb the trees surrounding the cabin. There were just two weeks of summer vacation left before the boys returned to school, and the Hardy family had rented this little cabin in the woods near Lake Adams in order to spend some quality time together. However, not every member of the Hardy family had come on the trip.

Laura scowled to herself as she began carrying the bags from the car to the cabin. Her husband should have been here to help and, more importantly, to spend time with his wife and sons.

Fenton Hardy had moved to Bayport just three years ago after leaving the New York Police Department and had started his own business as a Private Investigator. The past year had been extremely busy for Fenton, as word of his success as an investigator spread. He even had to hire an assistant, Sam Radley.

However, his success meant that he often had to cancel family holidays such as this one. Laura was proud of her husband, but it was at times like this that she wished he had remained a police officer.

As she began to unpack the bags, she wondered if her husband would be able to join them for a few days at least; he had promised he would try.

Laura fervently hoped he would. The boys had been crushed when they had learned that their father had to cancel yet another holiday, and Laura had decided to continue with the trip without her husband. She had consoled the boys with the promise that their father would try and join them for a few days, and was praying that they wouldn't be disappointed again.

As she began to prepare lunch, Laura frowned. Her husband's success meant that the Hardys were now living a very comfortable life, but the cost was that Fenton was missing out on watching his sons grow up.

Laura shook her head and reached out to turn on the tap in the kitchen sink, then froze in shock as a blond head sailed through the air just outside the kitchen window.

"Joe!" she cried rushing to the back door of the kitchen that led outside, afraid that her son had fallen from a tree. Pushing the door open, Laura sighed with relief.

Joe was fine. He was laughing hysterically, swinging back and forth on a sturdy rope that someone had tied to a large oak tree. Frank stood a little further away watching Joe with some trepidation.

"Be careful on that rope, Joe!" Laura warned, stepping onto the wooden porch. "Don't fall, and make sure that Frank has a turn."

"I don't want a go," Frank informed her, as he continued to eye the rope with distrust. "It doesn't look safe."

"Frank, honey, look how sturdy that rope is," said Laura. "And look how strong the tree is. Give it a go, it looks like fun."

"Yeah, Frank! This is great! Wheeeee!" Joe whooped as he swung crazily on the rope.

"Okay, but don't you _dare_ push me, Joe!" Frank warned. "I can push myself."

As Joe slid from the rope and Frank prepared to take his turn, Laura hid a smile and returned to the kitchen.

Fenton really didn't know what he was missing with his sons she reflected, a little sadly, as she continued with lunch. Laura enjoyed watching her sons grow up and play together. Frank and Joe's closeness afforded her a great sense of satisfaction and contentment.

It also entertained her beyond measure to see how different her sons were.

Frank, at seven and a half, was tall and thin with dark hair and eyes; and Laura could already see that he was going to be a very handsome man like his father. Frank was a quiet, serious child, and very intelligent. Laura had never seen any child conduct themselves with the poise and maturity that Frank did, although sometimes she wished he would let himself go a little. Children were only children for a short time but they were adults forever.

The exact opposite was true of Joe, and Laura often wished he had some of his older brother's caution.

Joe was six, and took after his mother with blond hair and blue eyes. An adorable child, he was very small for his age; but what he lacked in size, he made up for in personality. Joe was a ball of energy; constantly moving, exploring, fidgeting, talking…anything other than sitting still. He was also an impulsive child, which tended to worry Laura a little. She hoped he would outgrow it.

Laughter floated into the kitchen from outside and Laura stopped to listen. She might wish that certain elements of her sons rubbed off on each other, but if the opportunity arose to grant that wish, would she take it? After all, their differences were what made them special, both to her and one another. When Joe was around, Frank tended to laugh more and behave more like a child. Joe on the other hand, hero-worshipped his older brother and sometimes tried to emulate Frank's mature ways.

Laura smiled to herself as she set the table. She was definitely wrong in wanting to change her sons, even if it was just a little, because they were perfect the way they were.

"Boys, lunch is ready," she called out.

Two grimy little figures raced headlong through the kitchen door, laughing and wrestling as they came.

"Boys, not in the kitchen," their mother admonished gently. "And wash your hands before you eat, please."

"Sorry, Mom," they chorused and headed for the bathroom.

Minutes later, they re-entered the kitchen and slipped quickly into their seats at the table.

"Did you have fun this afternoon?" Laura asked them as they ate hungrily.

"Ifwazgreafun," Joe immediately replied through a mouthful of pizza.

"Joe," his mother grimaced. "Don't eat and speak at the same time."

"Sorry," Joe mumbled through another mouthful of pizza.

Frank grinned at his brother and then turned to his mother. "We had fun," he informed her. "This place is great, there's so much to explore. Can we go for a walk after lunch? Please, Mom? I promise we won't go far."

"Yeah, Mom, please?" Joe chimed in.

Laura looked at the two eager little faces and laughed. "I'll tell you what, after lunch why don't you boys help me pack a small picnic and we'll _all_ go for a walk. Maybe even go swimming at the lake?"

The boys cheered enthusiastically at this suggestion and Laura's smile widened. She was looking forward to spending the afternoon with her sons.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After lunch, it took Laura and the boys just ten minutes to put a small picnic together and pack their bathing suits. The boys were eager to go straight away, but Laura insisted that they use the bathroom and change into sturdier shoes. "And bring some warm sweaters just in case," she called after them as they disappeared up the stairs.

In less than five minutes, Joe appeared at the bottom of the stairs, followed closely by Frank.

"Ready to go?" asked Laura and they nodded vigorously.

They set off through the woods in the direction of the lake. They had walked in silence for several minutes when Joe suddenly burst out, "Mom, who gets the top bunk?"

Before Laura could respond, Frank cut in with, "it should be me 'cause I'm the eldest!"

"That's not fair!" Joe protested.

"Well, I am the eldest," said Frank smugly. "I'd be more _careful_ in the top bunk!"

"Well then, I should get the top bunk 'cause I'm the _youngest_," Joe stated stubbornly. "Just 'cause you're the eldest doesn't mean that you get first call on everything!"

Laura could see that this was a debate that had already started sometime before.

"Boys!" she interjected quickly before the argument could get out of hand. "We're here for eight nights. Why don't one of you sleep in the top bunk for the first four nights and then the other one sleep in it for the last four nights?"

The boys considered this suggestion.

"Okay," said Frank. "That sounds fair."

"I get the top bunk first!" Joe added quickly.

Frank scowled but didn't argue.

"Great," their mother smiled. "Now, I have some Popsicles in the cooler, who'd like one?"

"Me!" the boys chorused.

Smiling, Laura opened the little cooler and handed the boys a Popsicle each. Joe frowned at his.

"Mom, can I have another one?" he asked.

"But, Joe, honey," said Laura in surprise, "strawberry is your favourite flavour."

"Not anymore," Joe explained. "Chet Morton told me that it was a girl's flavour 'cause it was red. The boy's flavours are the green and orange, the girl's flavours are the red and yellow."

"But, Joe, you don't like the other flavours," Frank reminded him.

"And what Chet said isn't true," his mother added. "Everyone can eat any flavour they like."

Joe shook his head seriously. "That's not what Chet said, and he only eats the boy's flavours. He said that only girls eat red so I'm not eating red."

Nothing Frank or Laura said could change his mind. Sighing, Laura gave him the green Popsicle, knowing he wouldn't eat it.

Sure enough, twenty minutes later as they arrived at the lake, Joe threw the half-melted mess into a nearby bin.

Frank and his mother exchanged a look. They had seen the faces Joe made as he half heartedly licked the Popsicle, but knew he was too stubborn to admit that he didn't like it.

Pretending not to notice, Laura turned to the boys. "I want you to wait an hour before swimming, but you can look around if you want."

The boys nodded and shot off towards the side of the lake to skim stones across the water; their father had shown them how to do it on one of the rare days out that he had joined them on.

Frank was very good at it, being able to time the throw just right, but Joe's impatience meant he just launched the stones expecting them to automatically skim the water. It took several minutes of Frank's coaching before he attempted it successfully.

"Hey, cool!" Joe cried, immediately launching a large stone that was too heavy to skim and splashed into the water, showering them all with droplets.

"I think I'm just going to sit back here where it's drier!" Laura laughed, indicating a grassy patch under one of the trees.

From her vantage point on the grass, Laura sat and watched the boys playing for several minutes until the heat from the sun made her sleepy. She closed her eyes, intending to snooze for a few minutes but immediately fell asleep, tired from the long drive to the woods and the busy morning.

It was nearly two hours later when she was awakened by an impatient Joe, wanting to know if they could go swimming yet.

Laura apologised to her sons and agreed that they could go swimming. She stripped to her own bathing suit and joined them. She knew they were strong swimmers, even for such a young age, but she wanted to be in the water with them anyway, just in case.

The spent an enjoyable afternoon swimming and playing in the water, and as evening drew close, left the water and flopped on the bank to dry in the warm sun. Laura produced a towel to speed up the process and within fifteen minutes they were all dry and back in their clothes, albeit with slightly damp hair.

"I'm hungry, Mom," said Frank. "Can we eat now?"

"Of course, honey," his mother smiled.

They sat in the evening sun, chatting and laughing as they enjoyed their picnic. Laura wished for the hundredth time that day that Fenton was here to enjoy this vacation with them.

In truth, she was a little annoyed with him for cancelling the trip again. _Sometimes I wonder if his career is more important to him than his family_, she mused, then shivered as the evening air began to chill slightly.

"Come on, boys, I think it's time to get back to the cabin," she said as she began to pack up the picnic things.

The boys helped her and within no time they were on their way back to the cabin.

Later that evening, after they'd had supper and the boys were ready for bed, they sat by the fire their mother had lit against the chilly night air, waiting for their father's phone call.

Laura was furious with Fenton. He had promised the boys that he would call no later than seven thirty to see how their day went, and here they were at five to nine still waiting for his call. He _knew_ that the boys bedtime was at eight, and that they would be exhausted from the early start and long drive they'd had that day. Laura had even tried calling home herself, but there had been no answer.

And now Frank's yawns were becoming more protracted by the second and Joe's eyes were drooping heavily.

Simmering silently, she watched the small boys struggle to stay awake just so they could speak to their father.

_Fenton doesn't appreciate his sons, he really doesn't!_ Laura fumed. She was ready to throttle her husband.

Suddenly the phone rang and Joe, instantly awake, ran to answer it.

"Hello?" he said breathlessly into the receiver. His face broke into a smile. "Dad!"

Frank scrambled off the couch and ran to the phone. "I want to talk to him too!"

Laura watched a little sadly at her sons' eagerness to share their news with their father. She wished Fenton appreciated how lucky he was. Finally, after ten minutes of watching Frank and Joe take it in turns to tell their father about the day, Laura shooed them off to bed.

"I'll be up in a minute to tuck you in," she told them. "I just want a word with your father first."

Laura took the phone and waited until Frank and Joe had gone upstairs before speaking.

"Hello," she said quietly.

"Hi, honey," the tired voice of Fenton Hardy sounded on the line. "Sounds like you had a busy day."

"Yes, but it was fun too," Laura answered. "I wish you could have been here."

"Me too," answered Fenton. "But I'm making real headway on this case and I just can't leave right now."

"I suppose that's why you were late in calling?"

"Yeah, I was at the station. One of Chief Collig's men had picked up another member of the gang and I wanted to talk to him myself."

"It would have taken just ten minutes to make a phone call from the station," Laura pointed out. "The boys were exhausted but wouldn't go to bed without hearing from you."

"Laura, this case is important," said Fenton, a little impatiently. "You know that."

"More important than your family?"

There was shocked silence at the other end of the line for several seconds before Fenton answered. "That's not fair, Laura, nor is it true."

"What do you expect me to say, Fenton?" asked Laura tiredly, her anger still simmering beneath her calm composure. "How many times have you let me and the boys down over a case?"

"You know I don't have a choice…"

"Yes you do!" Laura interrupted in a flash of anger, attempting to keep her voice low. "You run your own business, you're your own boss! You should be able to dictate your own hours! And now you have Sam Radley to pick up the slack."

"Sam's still new. I don't know if I can trust him to handle this case on his own…"

"Sam Peterson recommended him, didn't he?" Laura interrupted her husband again. "Surely that should be good enough for you?"

"This isn't the time for this discussion," said Fenton sharply. "When you get back, we'll sit down and talk about it."

"What do you mean when I get back?" Laura's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Then realisation dawned. "You're not coming out here, are you?" she accused.

"No, I really can't. There's too much going on here right now…"

"Fine!" said Laura shortly. "I'd better go, I want to tuck the boys in."

"Laura…"

"Just make sure you ring before seven tomorrow evening!" Laura warned him. "Goodnight, Fenton." And without waiting for an answer, she hung up.

With a heavy heart, Laura made her way up the stairs. During nine years of marriage, she had spent many nights away from her husband, but she'd never gone to bed angry at him before. At the back of her mind echoed an old saying of her mother's; _never let the sun go down on your anger_.

Laura pushed open the bedroom door to her sons' room. The bedside lamp was on and she saw Frank sit up in the bottom bunk as she entered the room.

"Joe's asleep," he whispered.

Laura looked at the small ball in the top bunk. A mop of blond hair was visible just above the covers. She leaned over and kissed her youngest son.

"Night, honey," she whispered as Joe grunted in his sleep.

Laura then sat down on the bottom bunk to tuck Frank in, and was surprised to see the strained look on his face.

"Frank, what's wrong?" she asked.

Frank bit his lip. "What did you and Dad fight about?"

Laura's heart quickened a little. "We didn't fight, sweetheart. I was just a little annoyed at him for calling so late."

"He's not coming out here, is he?" said Frank dejectedly. "I heard you say it."

"Honey, I'm sorry." Laura hugged Frank tightly. "But he's just so busy with this case. He promised to make it up to you," she added.

"He always promises that, and he always breaks it," said Frank miserably. "Chet's dad took him to the circus last week, and Biff's dad goes to all of his baseball games. Why does our dad have to be different?"

Laura had no answer. Instead she hugged Frank tightly again and looked him in the eyes. "I'll talk to your dad, okay? And hey, why don't you, me and Joe go exploring tomorrow? I think there's some caves around here, just beyond the lake. We can look at the map tomorrow."

This suggestion cheered Frank up considerably. His dad might not always be there, but they had the best mother in the world.

"Okay," he agreed happily. "Night, Mom."

"Night, honey," she replied, kissing his forehead as he snuggled down.

Turning off the light, Laura crept quietly from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The next morning was grey and overcast. Laura peered worriedly at the sky and hoped the rain would hold off. She didn't want to have to disappoint the boys; they were really looking forward to exploring the caves.

Frank already had the map out and was pouring over it, looking for the location of the caves.

"Found it!" he declared triumphantly, looking up from the map, a piece of toast clutched in his left hand.

"Where?" Joe rushed over excitedly. Frank had told him first thing that morning about the proposed hike, and Joe had been looking forward to it ever since. A cave sounded like a good place to find a skunk.

Frank pointed to the spot on the map as his mother and brother leaned in for a look.

"We'll be heading in that direction," Frank told his mother importantly as he indicated towards the lake.

"Where are we now?" asked Joe, staring with interest at the map. Frank was a Boy Scout and could read maps, but it looked like double-dutch to him.

"Here," said Frank, pointing to the map again.

Joe studied the map and frowned, thinking hard.

"Do you think we should bring a picnic lunch?" asked Frank, turning to his mother as Joe wandered over to the window.

"I think that would be a good idea," Laura smiled. It still amazed her that Frank could read maps. He had pestered his Scout Master to teach him when he had first joined the Boy Scouts and the Scout Master had humoured him, never really thinking that Frank would understand what he was saying. The Scout Master had been floored when Frank had picked up the skill in just a matter of days.

"Our son really is a genius!" Fenton had smiled proudly.

Laura yawned suddenly. She felt very tired. _Must be from the long drive yesterday_, she mused.

"I can't see them," Joe's voice broke into Laura's thoughts.

"See what, honey?"

"The caves," said Joe. "I can't see them."

"You can't see them from here, Joe," Laura explained. "We have to walk to the caves."

"Nu-uh." Joe shook his head and trotted over to the table where the map was spread out. "Look."

Laura looked at the spot that Joe was indicating.

"See? We're here and the caves are there," Joe told her, jabbing at both spots on the map. "Look how near they are, we should be able to see them."

"Oh, honey," said Laura, as she understood what her son was saying. "Maps don't work like that. What seems really near on a map is actually much further in real life. Look, I'll show you." Laura pointed her finger at the spot on the map where the cabin was. "We're here now, but do you remember how long we had to drive yesterday to get here?"

Joe nodded.

"Well, this is where Bayport is on the map," Laura continued, as she tapped on the map to indicate where Bayport was. Then drew her finger along the road they had taken saying, "and this is the road we took to get here."

"The map is only a small version of the real road," Frank added. "Like your toy garage is a small version of the real one in Bayport."

"But that's just silly," Joe burst out. "My garage is only a toy, but people use maps to find their way to places. It shouldn't be like a toy road!"

"It's not," Laura responded. "The maps are done in scale, they…" Laura trailed off. She didn't know how to explain about size and scale to Joe. He was a very bright child for his age, but he wasn't a child prodigy like Frank either. She knew that explanations about size and scale would go over his head, and possibly confuse him even more. Then an idea struck her.

"I know, why don't you bring your notebook and pencil with you?" said Laura. "That way, you can draw your own map to the caves. And when we get back, I'll be able to show you the difference between your map and the real one. Then you'll be able to understand why the map makers have to make the map smaller."

"Okay," said Joe and shot off to the room to retrieve his notebook and pen.

Frank smiled at his mother. "I think you'd make a better Scout Master than even Mr. Higgins, Mom. You explain things so well."

"Thank you, Frank," Laura smiled, pleased.

"You're welcome." Frank beamed. He was going exploring with two of his favourite people in the whole world today. This would be fun.

_Pity Dad can't come_…

Frank's smile faded as the thought flitted through his mind.

Laura saw his smile drop and immediately moved to distract Frank. "Come on, Frank. Why don't you help me with the picnic lunch? The sooner we get it done, the sooner we can leave."

The walk to the caves took longer than Laura had anticipated. Joe kept stopping every few minutes to draw his map and by the time they reached the caves, the normally level-headed Frank was sizzling with impatience.

"Come _on, _Joe!" said Frank in exasperation, as Joe stopped just ten feet from the cave to add to his map again.

"Hang on," said Joe, scribbling in the little notebook. Sticking his tongue out at the corner of his mouth in concentration, he added the final touches to his map.

Laura suppressed a laugh to see her usually serious son hopping with impatience from one foot to the other, while her usually boisterous son stood frowning seriously at his little map.

Finally they reached the cave. Laura handed Frank and Joe a flashlight each, then switched on her own flashlight. Frank and Joe followed suit.

"Stay close behind me," Laura warned. "I don't want either of you to fall or get lost." She didn't need to warn them. Now that Frank and Joe were actually in the cave, they found the gloomy darkness a little scary.

Laura walked into the cave with the boys following close behind. They walked for quite a while until the roof started to slope down. Laura stopped and shone her light into the cramped space beyond. The beam fell on what looked like a bed of grass and twigs.

"Hey, look at that," she said with interest to the boys. "It looks like a bear hibernated in here at some point or another."

"Bear!" Joe exclaimed, looking around fearfully. Frank also looked a little apprehensive.

"Don't worry, there haven't been any bears in these woods for quite a while," their mother reassured them. "Besides, it's summer…bears only hibernate in winter."

"Oh, yeah," said Joe, relieved.

"Guess we forgot," Frank added sheepishly.

Their mother laughed. "Come on, lets go back. We can have our picnic just outside the cave."

On the walk back, the boys flashed their lights around the cave walls with interest. The little fear they had felt earlier was completely gone.

"Why aren't there any pictures on the walls?" asked Frank, suddenly.

"What do you mean, honey?" asked Laura.

"Pictures," Frank repeated. "The ones drawn by cave men. Dad was watching a documentary on TV about them last month."

"Ah!" Laura nodded in understanding and explained briefly to the boys about prehistoric cave paintings. They were fascinated.

"Wow, imagine living in a cave and hunting, and never having to take a bath," said Joe enthusiastically. "Cool!"

"What makes you think they didn't take have to take baths?" asked Laura, amused.

"'Cause when Aunt Gertrude took us out for ice-cream the other day, that weird guy who hangs out in the park asked her for money, and she called him a smelly cave man and told him to take a wash and get a job," Joe explained.

Laura laughed. "I see your point, I…oh!" Laura stopped dead at the mouth of the cave and stared out in dismay. It had started to rain while they were in the cave.

"How are we going to get back to the cabin?" asked Frank, while Joe stuck out his tongue to catch the rain drops.

"We'll just have to wait for it to pass," said Laura, as she pulled Joe away from the mouth of the cave. "Come on, lets have our lunch in here."

The boys threw themselves on the floor of the cave as their mother un-slung the bag on her back and took out sandwiches, fruit and cake. Finally, she withdrew a flask of tea and a bottle of soda. Frank loved tea but Joe wouldn't touch it. He maintained it was the colour of mud.

After they had eaten, Laura tried to explain about maps to Joe.

"Map makers make the maps small so that they can fit everything in," Laura said. "Look at how big your map is, Joe."

Joe looked at his notebook. His map covered ten pages.

"Now, imagine trying to give every map that much space. Nobody would be able to carry the map around with them. The point of a map is so that you can see your route at a glance."

A look of understanding flitted across Joe's face. "Oh, I get it!" He glanced at the map that Frank was still studying seriously. "But then why can't I read the map?" he asked in irritation.

"It's not like reading a book, honey. You need to know which way is North, South, East and West, and you need to be able to calculate distance."

"Frank can," Joe pointed out.

"Frank's older," his mother answered.

Joe wrinkled his forehead. "Will I be able to read maps when I'm seven?"

"Sure, honey, I'll teach you how."

The rain continued to fall so Laura attempted to entertain the boys with a game of I-Spy. They played happily for half an hour before Joe became restless.

"Why won't it stop raining?" he groused. "It's cold! I want to go back to the cabin."

"It'll stop soon," Laura tried to reassure him. "Come here to me. If you're cold, you can cuddle into me. You too, Frank."

The boys did as she suggested and Laura managed to pass another hour by telling them stories.

Finally, it stopped raining. Quickly, Laura slung the bag on her back and hustled the boys out of the cave. The sky still looked grey and she wanted to get them home before it started to rain again. Unfortunately, the ground was now muddy from the rain and it hindered their progress. They were only half way back to the cabin when it started to rain again. Before long, they were all soaked and shivering.

Laura tried to keep their spirits up by getting them to sing as they walked, but the boys were too tired, cold and wet to comply. She was relieved when the cabin finally came into view.

"At last!" Joe exclaimed and ran for the shelter of the porch.

"Be careful, Joe!" Laura called. "The ground is very slippy!"

The words were no sooner out of her mouth when Joe slipped forward. Instinctively, he put his hands out to break his fall and landed hard on them, crying out in pain as he did so.

"Joe! Are you okay?" Laura ran forward as quickly as the wet ground would allow and bent down beside him. Frank followed closely behind.

Joe was covered in mud and tears were streaming down his face, His right hand was curled in a ball.

"What's wrong, honey? Did you hurt your hand?" Laura asked gently.

Whimpering, Joe nodded.

Laura reached for his hand, frowning as she noticed a trickle of red between his fingers. "Okay, Joe, I need to see your hand."

Joe shook his head. "N-no," he moaned. "H-hurts!"

"I know, sweetheart, but I need to see it to make it better," his mother said gently. "Will you let me see your hand?"

Still crying, Joe nodded and slowly held out his hand. He winced a little and cried out in pain as his mother gently rolled his fingers back from his palm.

Laura was alarmed at the large gash that was stretched across the small palm bleeding heavily. Behind her, she heard Frank's sharp intake of breath.

_How on earth did he cut himself like that? _she thought, her eyes scanning the ground for signs of a sharp rock. Instead, her gaze fell on several shards of broken glass. _Where did that come from? _Laura was furious at whoever had thrown the glass there but didn't have time to wonder. The rain was now torrential and both boys were shivering hard.

She took her keys from her pocket and handed them to Frank. "Frank, open the front door, please," she said. As Frank ran towards the porch, Laura reached down and carefully lifted Joe up, then followed Frank. Once inside, she made for the kitchen and sat the shivering child on a chair.

"Frank, I need you to get me the first aid kit in the bathroom and then I want you to take a hot shower," Laura instructed as she put the kettle on to boil.

Frank quickly ran from the room.

"Don't worry, sweetie," she said in soothing tones to Joe. "It'll be fine. I'll clean your hand and it'll be fine."

"Actually," said a hard voice from the hall, "everything is far from fine!"

Laura spun around to look at the doorway and gasped as she saw a masked man standing there. He was holding Frank tightly to him, a gun pointed at his head!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Frank!" Laura cried and started towards her son.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" snapped the man sharply, tightening his grip on Frank. Laura stopped. She could see that Frank was terrified and looked as though he might burst into tears.

"What do you want?" Laura asked, struggling to keep her voice calm.

"You'll find out soon enough," said another voice from behind her and Laura turned to see another masked man standing at the back door, a gun in his hand aimed directly at her.

"Move back to the table," he told her, waving the gun as he did so. Laura moved slowly back towards Joe, who had now stopped crying and was sitting frozen in his seat.

The man holding Frank began to move into the kitchen.

Laura turned her gaze on him. "Please don't hurt him!" she begged.

The man ignored her and moved into the centre of the kitchen, dragging Frank with him. Two more masked men entered the kitchen behind him. Laura felt the blood pounding in her head and thought she might faint, but forced herself to remain calm for the boys' sake.

The last two men moved to Laura's side and pulled her away from Joe. The other man moved into the kitchen, slamming the back door behind him. He walked over to the kitchen table and dragged Joe roughly from the chair, bringing a cry of alarm and pain from the child.

"What do you want?" Laura cried again, watching the men who were holding her sons fearfully.

"We want a word with Fenton Hardy," answered the man who was holding Frank. Laura could see that silent tears had now begun to slide down Frank's face.

"He's not here!" said Laura desperately.

"Oh, I know that," laughed the man holding Frank. "But he _is_ due to ring you this evening by seven, isn't he? After all, you _warned_ him to call on time this evening."

Laura gasped. "How did you…"

"We tapped your phone," the man informed her coldly. "And you'd better hope that Fenton does ring on time this evening, because I don't like waiting!"

Her heart beating painfully against her chest, Laura nodded. "He'll ring."

"Good." The man gave a curt nod to the men holding Laura and they immediately released her. "You may change into dry clothes," he told her. "But remember, we have your sons here, so don't try anything funny."

Laura didn't move. "I'll stay. Let my sons change into dry clothes."

"I told you to!" the man snarled. "I want something cooked for me and my men while we wait, and I don't want you catching cold and sneezing into it!"

Laura could see her children shivering with fear and cold, and gaped at the cruel selfishness of this man.

Suddenly, one of the men beside Laura spoke up. "Let them all change. They're all wet and if they get sick, it means extra work for us. We need them in one piece."

Laura was shocked by how young this man's voice sounded and turned to him.

He ignored her and kept his eyes - all that she could see of his face through the balaclava - fixed firmly on the man holding Frank. Finally, he nodded and released Frank.

"Fine!" he snapped. "But one at a time! This kid can go first and you can go with him."

The man with the young voice nodded and moved across to Frank.

The first man, who appeared to be the leader, took Frank by the shoulders and shook him hard. "You listen to me, kid. You're going upstairs with this man and you're going to change into dry clothes. Then you come straight back downstairs. Try anything funny and I'll slit your little brother's throat!"

Frank felt his knees go weak at the man's threat and stole a terrified glance at his brother. Joe was pale and his eyes were half closed.

"I won't do anything, I promise!" he said desperately, as the other man hurried him out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

On the way to the bedroom the brothers shared, the masked man stopped at the bathroom and pulled a towel from the rail. He passed it to Frank. "You're going to need to dry yourself first," he informed him.

Once in the room, the man instructed Frank to pull the dry clothes out and leave them on his bed. Frank did as he was bid and stared nervously at the man. Was he going to remain while Frank changed?

The man turned and walked back to the door. He remained standing in the doorway with his back to Frank. "I won't look," the man said. "But I'm standing right here so don't try anything."

Quickly, Frank stripped off his sopping wet clothes and dried himself with the towel. He found it difficult to put on the dry clothes because his hands were shaking with fear and cold. When he was finished, he threw the wet towel and clothes into the laundry hamper in the corner of the room. Even in a crisis, Frank was neat.

"I'm finished," he told the man shakily.

The man turned around and surveyed him. "Back downstairs," he ordered, indicating with his gun.

Frank obliged and returned to the kitchen.

His mother cast a relieved look in his direction. Frank had been gone less than ten minutes and even looked a little calmer, which meant nothing could have happened. Laura knew nothing about these men or what they were capable of, and her mind had run rife with possibilities while Frank was upstairs and out of her sight.

The man who had gone upstairs with him kept his gun trained on Frank.

"Your turn!" snarled the man in charge, turning to Joe.

"I think you should let her go with him," said the man who had his gun on Frank, as he indicated Laura. "She won't try anything while we've got this kid here, and that other kid doesn't look like he can do much right now."

The man pointed at Joe's hand which he had cradled across his chest, and Frank was alarmed to see his brother's hand was still bleeding and had stained the front of his sweater.

"Who's running this operation? You or me?" questioned the first man dangerously. The man holding the gun on Frank merely shrugged. "I was just trying to help."

The other man watched him closely for a second or two. "FINE!" he growled, and turned to Laura. "Take that kid upstairs and get dry clothes for both of you. But if you try anything, and I mean _anything_, this kid dies a horrible death!"

He grabbed Frank and put the gun to his head once more as he finished speaking.

Laura nodded, terrified, her eyes moving back and forth between her sons.

The man standing beside Laura prodded her forward with his gun, while the man with the young voice pulled Joe out of the kitchen.

Once upstairs, the man with the young voice turned to Laura. "Take two towels from the bathroom and get the clothes you require from the boys' room. Then follow us to your own room. Try anything and I'll shoot him on the spot," he finished, pointing at Joe.

Laura nodded and quickly did as she was told, also grabbing the first aid kit.

As she entered her room, Laura's heart almost broke when she saw Joe's lost little figure standing between the two men, their guns trained on him.

The man with the young voice looked at her. "We'll be standing in the doorway. We won't look, but remember what will happen to your son downstairs if you try anything."

Laura nodded, the terrified lump in her throat increasing. The men crossed the room and stood in the doorway, their backs to Laura and Joe. Laura gave her frightened son a quick hug to reassure him before getting to work.

She stripped and dried Joe before getting him into dry clothes, all the while talking to him in quiet, soothing tones. Her task was hindered as she, like Frank, was shaking with fear and cold.

When Joe was done, Laura changed quickly, hoping that some dry clothes would help her stop shaking long enough to look at Joe's hand. It was still bleeding heavily and Laura was fearful that he might need stitches.

However, before she had the chance to look, one of the men called in to the room. "Ain't you done yet?"

It was the first time this man had spoken and his voice was harsh, like someone who smoked too many cigarettes.

Laura winced and answered timidly. "We're dressed, but I just want to look at my son's hand…"

"Do it downstairs!" the man snapped, striding into the room and yanking Laura to a standing position from where she had been sitting on the bed, before pushing her towards the door. "On your feet, kid!" he growled, turning to Joe.

Joe stumbled off the bed. He was trying very hard not to cry, but he was terrified and his hand was burning with pain. As the man dragged him out of the room, Joe saw his mother's pale, frightened face and felt tears sting his eyes. His father was supposed to fight the bad guys…where was he now? Why wasn't he fighting these bad guys?

A strangled sob escaped from his throat and Joe quickly stifled it. His mother and Frank were being brave, so he had to be brave too.

Back in the kitchen, Joe was flung unceremoniously into a chair beside Frank and Laura was shoved roughly in the direction of the stove.

"Cook us something!" the leader ordered.

Something in Laura snapped a little. "No!" she said firmly, shocking everyone in the kitchen. "My son is injured, and until I've had the chance to look at his hand I won't be doing anything!"

"You'll do exactly as I say if you know what's good for you!" snarled the man dangerously, advancing on Laura.

"No!" she shook her head stubbornly.

The man drew back his hand and slapped her hard across the face.

Laura flinched and staggered, but then stood up and stared at him defiantly; she could see that his eyes were a cold, steely-grey behind the balaclava.

"Fine, if that's how you want it…" He strode over to Joe and put the gun to his head.

"I blow his brains out and you don't need to worry about his hand!"

"NO!" The scream ripped from her throat.

"Then do what you're damn well told!"

Laura looked at him pleadingly. "I'll do _anything_ you want…please just let me look at his hand."

"Ah Christ, this is getting us nowhere!" the fourth man expostulated. Laura had not heard him speak before and noted that he spoke with an English accent. "Let her look at the bloody hand, maybe we'll get something to eat quicker…"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" the leader roared so loudly that everyone in the kitchen jumped. "I let the bitch and her brats change their clothes, didn't I? I think I've been very considerate up till now, but I'm just about out of patience!"

He cocked the hammer of the gun that he still had aimed at Joe's head.

"NO!" shouted Laura, Frank and the man with the young voice at the same time.

The leader swivelled to look at his own man, now pointing the gun at him.

"I understand why they don't want him dead," he said, his voice softly evil. "What's your excuse?"

"We still need him. Kill him now and you'll get nothing from Hardy." The young voice was cold and didn't waver once.

The leader was quiet for several minutes. He looked around the kitchen and dropped the gun. "You've got five minutes," he told Laura.

Laura didn't say another word. She was at Joe's side with the first aid kit in a second. Taking his hand in hers, she quickly examined it. The gash was long and deep, and it was still bleeding, although not quite so heavily as before.

_Damn_, she thought, her heart sinking. _He needs stitches_…

Laura knew she needed to keep the wound clean until she could get Joe to a doctor. She attempted to clean the wound with antiseptic wipes, but Joe immediately pulled his hand from hers, crying out in pain.

"That hurts!"

"I know, sweetie," she said gently. "But it'll only sting for a minute or two, and then afterwards your hand won't feel so sore."

She reached for his hand again but Joe pulled it against his chest and shook his head frantically.

"Joe, please…" Laura begged. She didn't have time for this.

"No!" He shook his head stubbornly.

"Joe," Laura tried to keep the fear and impatience out of her voice, "I need you to be a brave boy and let me clean your hand. I promise, it'll only hurt for a minute."

"Enough!" spat the leader. "Kid, do as your mother tells you…or I'll kill your brother." He put the gun to Frank's head. "Do you want to be responsible for your brother's death?"

Terrified, Joe shook his head. "N-no! Don't h-hurt him! I'll be good!" He stuck his hand out quickly, nearly striking his mother in his panic.

"Clever boy," sneered the leader, keeping the gun on Frank. "C'mon lady, clean the brat's hand!"

Fuming with anger and fear at the way this man was playing with her children's minds, Laura cleaned and bandaged Joe's hand, her heart wrenching with pity as he moaned in pain.

When she was done, Laura stood up and faced the leader. "I'll cook for you now."

He moved the gun he had trained on Frank and pointed it at Laura instead. "Well then, get going."

Several hours later, they all sat in silence waiting for the phone to ring.

The three Hardys were tightly bound to their chairs. The men had tied them up before sitting down to eat, and had left them there once finished.

Laura was frantically clock watching. Seven o'clock had come and gone; it was now nearly eight fifteen.

_Oh God, Fenton, please ring, please ring, please ring_…

Laura could see that the men were growing impatient.

"This is taking too long," the man with the English accent complained.

"It is, isn't it?" the leader said, and turned on Laura. "Looks like your husband really doesn't care about you or your kids. He'd have rang by now if he did."

"He'll ring!" Laura insisted desperately.

"No, I don't think he will," said the man coldly, pointing his gun at her face. "Which means that you've just lost your usefulness…"

"Please!" Laura begged. "My boys…"

The moment was suddenly shattered by the shrill ringing of the telephone!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

For a split second, everyone in the room froze and stared at the ringing phone. Then, the man with the harsh voice grabbed the phone and held it to Laura's ear.

"Say hello!" he ordered.

"H-hello," Laura answered, her heart thumping painfully. She nearly went limp with relief when she heard her husband's voice on the other end.

"Hi, Laura. Look, I'm sorry I'm late ringing but things have just been crazy here today…"

"Oh, Fenton," Laura broke in, her nerves finally starting to go. "Thank goodness you called!"

"Why? What's wrong?" Fenton asked immediately. But before Laura could answer, the leader grabbed the phone.

"Laura can't come to the phone right now…but if you'd like to leave a message!" he chortled gleefully into the phone. Laura could see that he'd been waiting all evening to do that.

"Who are you? Where's my wife?" said Fenton at once. He was practically shouting and Laura could hear every word.

"Right here beside me, Fenton, and your two boys too," the leader answered.

"Who are you?" There was an edge of panic in Fenton's voice.

"Who I am doesn't matter. The only thing that should concern you right now is that I have your family…"

"You'd better not have hurt them!"

"Your family are alive and unharmed," the leader told him. "How long they remain that way is entirely up to you."

"What do you want?" asked Fenton desperately.

"Co-operative and to the point. I like that in a man," the leader continued to torment him. "You and I will get along just fine as long as you keep up that attitude."

"_What do you want?" _spat Fenton.

"Two things. First, I want you off the case you're working on. As of this second, it's no longer your concern!"

"Fine," said Fenton. "What's the second?"

"You have access to a man I'm very anxious to speak with; his name is Tim Hanley. I want him in exchange for your family."

"You want me to exchange one life for another?" asked Fenton, shocked.

The man chuckled coldly. "No, Fenton. Three lives for one…and not just any three lives, the lives of your family. Is the life of one man, a _crook_ no less, more important than that of your family?" He glanced at Laura, enjoying the effect his words were having on her.

"Please," Fenton begged. "My family are innocent, leave them out of this."

"But they're in this _because _they're your family," the man continued gleefully. "Surely you see that?"

"But you know where Tim Hanley is," said Fenton desperately. "He's in jail and…"

"Of course I know where the stinking turn-coat is!" growled the leader. "Why do you think I need you to reach him?"

"But how can I get him to you?" The desperation and panic were clearly evident in Fenton's voice now.

The leader smiled. So the man _did_ care about his family. "You could always try breaking him out," he informed Fenton calmly.

"What?" Fenton spluttered.

"A prison break," the man reiterated.

"But I can't…I…How…"

"You need further convincing? Fine!" The leader strolled across to Frank. "Say 'hi' to your daddy, kid."

He put the phone to Frank's ear.

"D-dad," Frank whispered.

"Oh God, Frank! Are you alright? Have they hurt you, son? What about Joe and your mother?"

"They haven't hurt us," Frank answered, the lump in his throat becoming more protracted by the second. "But, Dad, they have guns and masks and…they're real scary, Dad." Frank could feel tears prick his eyes and sniffed.

The leader pulled the phone from his ear and turned to Joe. "Your turn."

"Daddy?" Joe's voice was small and scared.

"Joe? Are you okay? Oh, son…"

"Mom and Frank are being very brave, like you," Joe told him. "I'm trying to be brave too…but Dad, I'm scared, please come get us!"

The last words were almost a whimper.

The leader took the phone again just in time to hear Fenton proclaim; "I'll bring you all home safe, Joe! I promise, I'll do whatever it takes…"

"You know what it will take, Fenton," the man said. "I suggest you get going on it because I'm giving you just three days. I'll contact you at the end of the three days to arrange a swap."

"_Three days? _But that's not enough time!"

"That's all you've got! And don't waste time coming up to this cosy little cabin here, because as soon as I hang up, we're all taking a little trip to a more private location. And don't even think of involving the cops! You do and they all die, slowly and painfully!"

"Please…"

"Tick-tock, Fenton, tick-tock!" said the man, and hung up the phone.

He turned to face everyone in the room. "Now, to make this trip as easy as possible _for us_, you three are going to take a little nap!"

"I'll get the van," said the man with the English accent, and he stood up and left the room.

The leader pulled a rag and a small brown bottle from his pocket. Quickly, he unscrewed the cap and poured some of the bottle's contents onto the rag, then approached Laura.

"Wha-what are you doing?" she asked apprehensively.

"Putting you to sleep," he answered and immediately put the rag over her nose and mouth.

Laura struggled, but it was hopeless and within minutes she was out like a light.

"MOM!" Frank and Joe screamed in panic.

"Relax," said the man. "I just put her to sleep and now it's your turn." He strode over to Frank and did the same to him.

"FRANK!" screamed Joe, as his brother's eyelids began to droop.

Joe was terrified. Several months ago, the Morton's dog had fallen sick and needed to be put to sleep. He never woke up, and when Joe had asked his mother why, she had explained that it was a special sleep which sent the dog to heaven. Joe understood then that the dog was dead. And now here were these men doing the same thing to his mother and brother.

Frank was now asleep and the man turned to Joe.

"NO! NO! GO AWAY!" Joe thrashed in his bindings in an attempt to evade the cloth. "Hold still!" the man grunted.

But Joe jerked his head away, then threw it from side to side.

He wasn't going to be put to sleep! He wasn't!

The man grabbed his head. "Hold still you little shit!"

The rag was placed over his mouth and an overwhelmingly sweet smell floated around him. Joe felt dizzy and the room spun.

_Hold your breath! _his mind screamed at him and Joe immediately did so.

Joe could hold his breath for nearly a full three minutes. He and Frank often had underwater competitions to see who could hold their breath the longest. Joe usually won; it was one of the few things he could beat his older brother at.

"Why's he turnin' purple?" asked the man with the harsh voice, after two minutes had passed.

The cloth was pulled away and Joe sucked in a breath.

"I won't go to sleep! I won't!" he cried, sounding a lot braver than he felt.

The leader struck him across the face. "This isn't like wanting to stay up late, you brat!"

The cloth was put over his mouth and again, Joe held his breath.

"He's turnin' purple again," observed the man with the harsh voice.

"Fine, let him kill himself then!" snarled the leader, not removing the cloth. "Stubborn little shit!"

"We need him," the man with the young voice reminded him.

The leader pulled the cloth away and glared at him. "There are other ways of putting him out you know…"

"Why don't you just gag him leave him awake?" the young man suggested. "We don't have time for this and we need the kid in one piece. Look at him, he's tiny! How much trouble can a kid that small be?"

"He's been plenty of trouble already," the man with the harsh voice put in.

"Just find some tape and gag the brat!" the leader spat in temper. "But I won't forget this, kid…"

Fenton Hardy stood in the hallway of his home on the corner of Elm street, staring in shock at the phone in his hand.

_This can't be happening_…

Fenton didn't know what to do. His own family was in danger and his mind wouldn't work; he couldn't think.

_This can't be happening_…

His son's scared voices echoed in his head, and Fenton shook his head vigorously trying to clear it.

_Think! _he scolded himself.

His family needed him.

Slowly, Fenton replaced the phone on it's receiver and walked into the kitchen, massaging his temples.

_Tim Hanley_, he moaned to himself. _Anyone but him_.

Tim Hanley had been a small time hood for a big time crime lord. He had been arrested on charges of racketeering and murder, and had turned state's evidence to get a lighter sentence…and the state's protection.

The FBI were now mere weeks from closing down one of the biggest drug smuggling rings in America with Tim Hanley's help, and his testimony was going to put away a lot of very powerful and very dangerous men.

Fenton hadn't a hope in hell of getting his hands on Tim Hanley.

_Tick-tock, Fenton, tick tock_…he heard the mocking words of the kidnapper in his head. Fenton knew his family were in the hands of some very dangerous and desperate men.

_I need help_, Fenton realised.

Again, the voice of the kidnapper rang in his head…_don't even think of involving the cops! You do and they all die, slowly and painfully_…

Fenton thought for a moment then walked back to the phone. Picking it up, he dialled quickly and listened to the phone ring on the other end.

"Hello?" a deep voice answered.

Fenton took a deep breath.

"Sam? It's Fenton. I need your help."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Several hours after the nightmare phone call, Fenton Hardy sat in the kitchen staring at a picture in his hand. It had been taken the year before at the family Labour Day picnic, and the whole family were in the photo. Fenton was sitting on the grass, his arm around his attractive wife. Frank was sprawled by their feet, head in hands, beaming up at the camera. Joe was standing behind his father, both arms around Fenton's neck and a huge smile on his face.

It was the perfect family photo.

Fenton groaned as he put the picture down and buried his head in his hands. He couldn't believe this nightmare was happening.

_If only I'd left the case to Sam and gone with them_!

Fenton shook his head. He had missed out on so many family holidays and family outings, the Labour Day picnic had been one of those rare occasions when he had actually been able to go.

And it had been a perfect day. Fenton had enjoyed himself hugely, and had come home feeling happier and more relaxed than he had felt in months. It was a feeling that Fenton didn't often have, usually because he was busy being stressed on an important case.

Sighing heavily, Fenton realised that Laura was right. He _did_ put his work before his family, and now they were the ones paying the price.

Just then the doorbell rang loudly, shattering his thoughts. Wearily, Fenton dragged himself to the door.

Sam Radley stood there on the front porch. He raised one eyebrow in surprise when he saw Fenton's haggard face.

"Sam," said Fenton. "Thanks for coming. Please come in." He stood aside to let Sam in.

Sam shot him a quizzical glance as he went past. "Fenton, what's going on? You told me to stay in New York because I wasn't needed in Bayport for the moment. Next thing I know, you're calling me and telling me I need to get back to Bayport…tonight. Do you know how many speed limits I broke getting back here? What gives?"

"Laura and the boys have been kidnapped," said Fenton hoarsely.

"What!" Sam exclaimed. "How? Where?"

Quickly, Fenton explained about the phone call and the kidnappers requests. When he was finished, Sam gasped.

"_Tim Hanley_! Fenton, there's no way…three days…it's impossible!"

Fenton nodded his head miserably. "I know, Sam, I know. That's why I called you. I don't know what to do."

Sam looked at the normally level-headed Fenton Hardy; a man famed for his cool intellect and calculated actions. And now when his family needed him, Fenton was going to pieces.

"We can't do this alone, Fenton," said Sam carefully. "I think I know someone who can help."

Joe lay on the bed in the dark room and wished his mother and brother would wake up. He felt very alone.

After the incident with the smelly rag, the men had taped Joe's mouth before loading him, his mother and his brother into a black van. The leader and the one with the rough voice had climbed into the front. Joe knew they had taken off their masks because he had heard them telling the other two men not to let Joe see them. The other two men had remained in the back with the Hardys, keeping their guns on the small child and his unconscious family.

They had driven for what felt like hours to Joe, finally stopping outside a dilapidated, grey-brick house surrounded by trees.

At least, that's all that Joe had seen as they carried him from the van to the house.

They had dumped the Hardy family on beds in a small basement, and locked the door. Nobody had come back since.

Joe was glad the men were gone. Their hulking, masked figures terrified him and he wanted to go home. He was exhausted, but too scared to sleep. He was also very hungry. It had been a long time since their picnic lunch in the cave.

Joe sniffed. Frank and his mother had been out for hours and Joe was beginning to think they would never wake up, just like Morton's dog.

Suddenly, a groan came from the inert body on the bed next to his.

_His mother was still alive!_

"Mpphh!" Joe tried to call but his mouth was still taped shut. "Mpphh!"

His mother groaned again, then opened her eyes.

"Ohhh, my head!" her voice was weak. "Wha-what's going on?"

"Mpphh!" Joe could feel his eyes popping with the strain of trying to speak.

His mother looked at him and it all came rushing back to her.

"Oh God! Joe, sweetie, are you ok? Where's Frank? Frank!"

Laura twisted her head up. She could see Frank lying on the other side of Joe.

"Frank!" she called desperately. "Wake up, sweetie, please wake up!"

Frank didn't move.

"Joe, where are we? What's wrong with Frank?"

Joe could hear the panic in his mother's voice and it scared him.

"Mpphh!" He wanted so badly to answer his mother.

It was then Laura noticed the gag.

"Joe! Who did that to you?" she asked in shock, and then realised the pointlessness of her question. Joe couldn't answer. His eyes stared helplessly back at her.

They heard footsteps overhead and Laura tensed as she heard voices coming near the basement. The door was flung open and a light switched on.

Both Laura and Joe squinted against the sudden light.

"You're awake." It was the young voiced man. "I've brought you something to eat."

He stepped down into the basement and placed a large bag on the crate in the centre of the room. He moved towards the unconscious Frank and cut his bonds, before doing the same thing for Joe and then Laura.

Laura got up quickly in order to check on her sons, but she had no sooner stood upright when she tumbled to the floor.

"Mom!" Joe squeaked.

"Don't be foolish," said their captor. "You've been bound for several hours and your legs are numb. Give yourself a chance. And I wouldn't try calling for help, we're in the middle of nowhere."

He turned and walked towards the stairs.

"Wait!" Laura called from the floor. "Please help us. Why are you doing this? You're not like them!"

This man had stood up for them more than once earlier on, and he did not seem quite so cruel or brutal as the other men. Laura hoped that he might be an ally.

The man paused for a second, half turned and looked at Laura, his eyes inscrutable behind his mask.

"I have my reasons," he told her. Then he turned, and without another word walked out the door. They heard the click of the lock being turned.

Laura and her sons were alone again.

She looked at Joe. He was staring wide-eyed down at her on the floor.

"Are you okay, Mom?" he whispered.

"I'm fine, honey." She struggled to her feet. Her legs felt strange and she had a pounding headache.

Quickly, Laura pulled Joe into a tight hug. "How's your hand?" she asked him.

"S'okay," he mumbled. "Hurts a bit. Will Frank wake up?"

"I'm going to wake him now," Laura assured Joe as she released him. She made her way over to Frank and picked him up. He was pale but his pulse was steady.

"Frank," she said, shaking him gently. "Wake up."

Frank groaned but didn't open his eyes.

"Frank!" said Laura insistently. "I need you to open your eyes."

Frank groaned again, but this time he did open his eyes.

"M-mom?" he croaked. "Wh-where are we?"

"I don't know, sweetie. Can you sit up?" How do you feel?"

Frank struggled to sit up. "My head hurts," he moaned.

"I know, sweetie. It's whatever they used to put us to sleep."

Frank was shaking his head groggily. Laura knew how he felt, her own head was swimming in fog.

She then frowned and looked at Joe. He seemed perfectly alert.

"Joe, how's your head?" she asked.

"Fine," he said, watching his brother. "I didn't go to sleep."

"You didn't?" Laura frowned again. "Why not?"

Joe told her what had happened and a flood of emotions ran through her. Anger at the way these men had treated and spoken to her young son, relief that Joe would suffer no side affects, and fear that Joe had spoken to a dangerous man like that.

"Joe, honey," she said. "You were very brave, but I need you to promise me that you won't do that again if they try to put you to sleep."

"No way!" Joe shook his head. "I don't want to go to sleep like Morton's dog!"

"Like Morton's dog?" Laura was bewildered. "Joe, what…oh!" Suddenly, it hit her what was worrying Joe.

"That's a very different kind of sleep, Joe," she told him firmly. "Frank and I woke up, didn't we? Now, I need you to _promise_ me you won't do that again!"

"I promise," Joe muttered sullenly.

"Good boy," said Laura, ruffling his hair. Hearing Joe's stomach rumble, she glanced towards the bag the man had left sitting on the crate.

Slowly, Laura got up and moved towards the crate. She felt strangely light-headed and swayed a little. When she reached the crate, she peered tentatively into the bag.

Inside were a few bottles of water, some fruit, sandwiches and biscuits. There was also two notebooks and some pens.

She returned to the bed and emptied the contents of the bag onto it.

"Food!" said Joe, snatching up a packet of biscuits.

"Sandwiches and fruit first," said Laura at once. "Then you can have biscuits."

The Hardys ate their meal in silence. Suddenly Joe gave a tremendous yawn and Laura noticed how exhausted he looked.

"Are you tired, Joe?" she asked and he nodded sleepily.

"I'm a bit tired too," Frank admitted, rubbing his eyes. "We mustn't have been asleep very long."

Laura doubted very much that was the case, but she had no watch to tell her what time it was. Clearing the empty wrappers off the bed, she made the boys lie down together before covering them with the only two ragged blankets in the basement.

Laura shivered. It was cold in the basement and she hoped the boys would stay warm by sleeping together. After the soaking they had received earlier, she was afraid they might catch cold.

She looked at her sons. Joe was already asleep - he had found it easy to fall asleep once he knew his mother and brother would be okay - and Frank was nodding. Laura couldn't help but be amazed at how calm they were being.

They were both scared, she could see that, but they weren't crying or having hysterics. Despite their desperate predicament, Laura was very proud of her sons' bravery.

Once both boys were asleep, Laura began to inspect the basement they were being held in. She tried the door first. It was made of large, heavy wood and locked from the other side. _No chance of breaking that down_, thought Laura wryly.

There was just one tiny window in the basement, but it was too small for either Laura or Frank to squeeze through. _But maybe for Joe_…

Laura tried the window. It was nailed shut. Peering through the grimy window, Laura could see that it was dark outside. _At least I know it's night_, she thought.

Sighing, Laura made a thorough examination of the rest of the basement but there was no other way out. They were well and truly trapped.

Gritting her teeth with frustration, Laura returned to the bed where Frank and Joe were sleeping and lay down beside them. She shivered again.

_Damn! This basement is cold!_

She sincerely hoped that Fenton would find them before they had to spend too many nights here.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Con Riley stood in his front hall, frowning. Sam Radley had been very vague on the phone. He had told Con that he needed him to come to Fenton Hardy's house, that it was urgent and could he please not wear his uniform.

Con shook his head. Was this to do with the Hanley case they were working on? Surely it was Chief Collig they were looking for? No, that wasn't right either. Sam had been very insistent about Con coming alone.

Con sighed as he quickly changed his clothes, then grabbed his car keys and jacket. It was nearly three in the morning, he had just finished work and he was tired. He really didn't want to go.

Opening his front door, Con stepped into the cold night air.

He had been a little shocked when Sam Radley called him. Sure, he liked the guy and he had gotten to know him pretty well over the last few months while Sam had been in and out of the station working on the Hanley case…but then there was his partner, Fenton Hardy.

Fenton Hardy seemed like a good man and an excellent investigator, but there was something a little stand-offish about him. He was a little too professional…too distant. Con's impression of him was that he was a bit of a cold fish; too busy being perfect to be human.

And now Sam was calling from Fenton's house in the early hours of the morning.

_Strange_, thought Con as he climbed into his car. _Very strange_.

Con had no idea what to expect.

As he turned on the engine and reversed out of the driveway, it suddenly occurred to Con that this could be a very long night.

Laura was stiff and cold when she awoke, and her body ached. She opened her eyes and gasped. _Where am I?_

Turning on her side, she nearly rolled right over a small figure.

_Joe_.

And it all came rushing back to Laura; the masked men, the kidnapping. Laura sighed and sat up. Her head was pounding hard and she felt a little shivery, almost flu-like.

_What time is it? _Laura wondered. It didn't feel like she had been asleep for very long.

She massaged her temples, willing the pain to go away.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

She turned and smiled at a sleepy-eyed Frank, who was sitting up and looking at her.

"I'm fine, honey, just a little stiff. Did you sleep alright?"

He shrugged. "Okay, I guess. My head doesn't hurt anymore."

"That's good. You don't feel cold or anything?"

Frank shook his head.

Suddenly, the door to their prison was thrown open and one of the masked men strolled in with a bag in one hand and a gun in the other.

"Breakfast time," he grunted at them and threw the bag at Laura. "Any of you need to go, now's the time to ask!"

Laura glanced at her boys. Joe was emerging, yawning, from beneath the blankets and Frank was biting his lip. She knew the boys would need to use the bathroom, but she was afraid to let them out of her sight.

Another man came down the stairs. He addressed the first man. "You want to stay here and I'll bring them up one at a time?"

It was the young voiced man. Laura relaxed a little. Something told her that this man was different to the others. It wasn't that he had helped them the evening before, or that he seemed less cruel, it was something she couldn't put her finger on.

"Can they go together?" Laura asked, feeling that the boys would be less scared if they were with each other.

The second man nodded, but the first man glared at her through the slits in his balaclava. "You're one pushy lady, you know that? What do you think this is, a hotel?" It was the man with the harsh voice.

"Leave it," said his comrade wearily. "If two of them go together, it'll make things quicker for us."

The first man looked at him then grunted his acquiescence.

Laura whispered to her sons. "You're going to the bathroom with that man. Don't say or do _anything_, and come straight back to me, okay?"

The boys nodded and slipped out of the bed.

"Hold it!" the first man ordered suddenly and faced the boys. "I've got your momma here, boys, remember that 'cause if you misbehave in any way, I'll kill her, understand?"

Mute and scared, the boys nodded.

They were hustled up the stairs and out of the basement into an old fashioned kitchen that looked as though it hadn't been used in years. Frank barely had time to take in their surroundings when the man pushed them through a door into a drafty old bathroom. The man pulled the door behind him but didn't close it fully. Frank knew he was standing right outside.

"You go first," he said to Joe who was squirming a little.

Frank's eyes roamed around the bathroom and fell on a rusty looking teaspoon lying by the sink. Putting his finger to his lips so that Joe wouldn't say anything, he quickly slipped the spoon into his pocket.

Frank didn't know what good a spoon was to him, but it might come in useful.

He then took his turn while Joe tried to wash his hands. Unfortunately, Joe's right hand hurt whenever he moved it and so he gave up and only washed his left hand.

"Does your hand still hurt?" asked Frank, as he washed his own hands.

"Just a bit," answered Joe, not wanting to seem a baby.

"Are you two finished?" the man outside called in.

Frank and Joe came out of the bathroom and were brought back to the basement.

When it was Laura's turn, she tried to get the young voiced man to talk to her but he refused to utter a word.

Once in the bathroom, with the door not pulled fully shut, Laura examined herself in the cracked mirror and was surprised by how ill she looked. Her face was pale and drawn, and there were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Laura hoped she wasn't going to get sick. Her boys needed her.

When she was finished, she was led back to the basement. The men then left, leaving the Hardys alone with their breakfast.

"I can't believe you just called Con Riley!" Fenton yelled at Sam. "The kidnappers warned me not to involve the police!"

"We're not involving the police, we're involving Con and the kidnappers don't need to know that," Sam responded coolly.

"They could be watching me, did you think of that?" said Fenton angrily. "When they see Con…

"Then all they'll see is Con," interrupted Sam. "He'll be in plain clothes, they won't have a clue!"

"It's too risky, this is my family's lives we're talking about."

"What do you suggest we do then?"

Fenton fell silent.

"Fenton, we _need_ Con's help. We're flying blind here."

Fenton slumped forward in defeat. "I'm sorry, Sam. It's just…I've never felt so _useless_! I've worked difficult cases before, but I've never had to gamble with my own family's lives."

Sam stared at him in pity. "I know, Fenton, but if you want them back, then you're going to have to think like an investigator and not like a father or a husband."

"It's my _lack_ of thinking like that that's landed them in this," said Fenton bitterly. "If I'd just gone on the trip then they'd never have been targets because I'd have been off the damn case!"

"You've been working the Hanley case for months," Sam pointed out. "You've cracked more leads on that case than the police and the FBI combined. Do you really think they would have ignored that?"

Fenton had no answer, what Sam said made sense. He shrugged unhappily. "Maybe I should never have left the New York Police Department."

Sam decided not to comment, saying instead, "why don't I put on a pot of coffee? I have a feeling we're all going to need it."

Fenton nodded. "Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate all you're doing here."

Sam smiled and went into the kitchen to make coffee. He returned to find Fenton slouched in a chair, brooding over a picture of his family.

"Put that away, Fenton, and have some coffee," said Sam firmly, handing him a cup. "Remember what I told you, stop thinking like a father…"

"I know, I know," Fenton cut him off wearily just as the doorbell rang.

They looked at each other and Sam went to answer the door. Fenton followed him slowly.

Sam pulled open the door to find Con Riley on the porch.

"I'd say good evening, Sam, but for the fact that it's some ungodly hour of the morning," said Con grumpily. "Mind telling me what this is all about?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Con Riley stared open-mouthed at Sam Radley as he finished explaining why Con was standing in Fenton Hardy's house at three thirty in the morning.

"Are you serious?" Con exclaimed.

"I've never been more serious in my life!" said Sam shortly.

Con glanced at Fenton. His pale, haggard face told Con that Sam was telling the truth.

_Unbelievable! _he thought.

Although Con wasn't working the Hanley case, he knew a lot about it. Everyone in the Bayport Police Department did. It was one of the biggest cases in recent years and, because of Fenton, much of the action was happening right here in Bayport.

Fenton Hardy had started working with the FBI nearly five months ago, when it was discovered that one of his own cases had ties to a drugs gang in New York.

The drugs gang in question was suspected by the FBI as being run by Alan Troy, a high profile business man with suggested mafia connections. However, Alan Troy was a powerful man with powerful friends. Despite their suspicions, the FBI had never been able to pin anything on him.

And then Fenton Hardy came along. In two weeks, his investigations had led to the arrests of two gang members; Kenneth Williams and Tim Hanley. The FBI quickly began to put pressure on the men to talk, but they maintained a steadfast silence.

Then Kenneth Williams had been found dead in his prison cell under suspicious circumstances, and the whole case was blown wide open.

Suddenly, Tim Hanley discovered that fear was a great incentive for speech. In return for the state's protection, he began to spill all he knew about the gang. Within a month, half of the gangs most prominent members were either dead or in prison. Within three months, four more related gangs across the country had been discovered and smashed, including one near Bayport.

And now the FBI were closing in on Alan Troy, gathering evidence that threatened to connect him to the mafia and several drug smuggling operations across the country. Evidence that also threatened to expose many of his powerful friends; some of whom were politicians and court judges.

All because of Tim Hanley.

Con could only imagine what the bounty on his head was.

"Will you help us?" Fenton interrupted his thoughts.

"I'll try," said Con unhappily. "But I don't know what you think I can do…"

"You know some of the guards at the Delta Penitentiary," said Sam. "Can you talk to them?"

"And say what?" demanded Con. "Excuse me, but I need to borrow one of your most high profile prisoners?"

Sam winced. "That's not what I meant. I was hoping you could get some information on the kind of security surrounding Tim Hanley…"

"So you can make some crazy attempt to bust him out? I don't think so!" Con exploded. "You'd get yourselves killed doing it!"

"What else can we do?" interjected Fenton. "I have only three days and there's very little I can do in three days. This man may be my only hope of getting my family back."

"You'd be signing Tim Hanley's death sentence," said Con.

"So you think some dead-beat criminal's life is more important than that of my family?" asked Fenton angrily.

"No I don't!" Con answered sharply. "But Tim Hanley's testimony will save the lives of a lot of families if it puts Alan Troy away."

"Call me selfish," Fenton snorted, "but the life of my family is worth more than any other family!"

"The life of your family is worth _nothing _once those men get their hands on Tim Hanley," said Con. "Think, Fenton! You've been instrumental in Tim Hanley's arrest and the breaking of those drugs rings, not to mention the evidence you've helped to gather against Alan Troy. Do you really think they're going to let you live happily ever after?"

Stricken, Fenton looked at him.

"What do you suggest we do?" said Sam, furiously. "Leave Laura and the boys to die?"

"Certainly not!" replied Con. "I suggest we find them before the three days are up."

"How?" Fenton spluttered.

"We start by having a look around the cabin that they were staying in," said Con calmly.

"That's a six hour drive from here!" Fenton exclaimed. "And they've been moved elsewhere! It's a waste of valuable time!"

"It might be a six hour drive but that doesn't matter, we won't be driving," Con told him.

"We won't?" Sam was incredulous. "Con, what are you talking about?"

"There's a little airfield about fifteen miles south of Lake Adams," Con informed them. "We'll be flying there."

Fenton and Sam just stared at him.

"We'll need to charter a plane of course, there probably aren't too many commercial flights heading up there," Con continued. "But the flight should only take about an hour."

Fenton was looking at Con with hope in his eyes. "What do we have to do?"

"Head to the airport. But I need one of you to drive," said Con, as he pulled a cell phone from his jacket. "I need to make a call."

Things were going from bad to worse for Laura.

She had felt cold and ill when she woke up, but by late morning Laura found herself becoming positively death-like.

She had spent most of the morning trying to entertain the boys with games of I-Spy and stories, trying desperately to ignore the increasing rawness of her throat.

It was only when her voice literally broke in the middle of a story, leaving her with nothing other than a whispered cackle in its place, that Laura gave up.

Croakily informing the boys that she had a little cold and would feel better after a small nap, Laura suggested that they draw pictures with the pens and paper that the kidnappers had left. Then she lay down to sleep.

She slept fitfully. Her head pounded relentlessly, her throat felt like sandpaper and her whole body ached painfully. She also felt helplessly weak, and her body ranged from burning hot to blood-numbingly cold.

She had never felt so ill in her life and couldn't understand how she had gotten so sick so quickly. After all, she had been fine yesterday.

Or had she?

Trying to make her fog-heavy brain work, Laura realised that she had been feeling tired for several days now, ever since she had been to see her old neighbour, Angelina Johnston.

Laura groaned inwardly. Mrs. Johnston had been dangerously ill with a diabolical flu and Laura had gone to see her after she had been released from hospital to see if there was anything she could do. She must have caught the flu then.

Laura knew that the soaking she had received yesterday, and the shock, stress and worry of the last few hours had also contributed to her weakened condition. She was too ill to be angry that this was happening to her when the boys needed her most.

As she drifted off into a fever induced sleep, Laura hoped vaguely that the boys wouldn't get sick.

Fenton, Sam and Con were finding out that hiring a private plane was harder than they had expected.

The three men had arrived at the airport and asked to charter a private plane to Mount. Trenton, the little airfield south of Lake Adams. The woman at the desk was about fifty with dark, slightly greying, hair and she had haughtily informed them that they would be unable to charter a plane that night.

"But this is important!" Fenton told her.

"I don't care," she answered sniffily. "There is just one private pilot operating at this time of night. Therefore, we are more cautious about where we send him. Aside from the fact that you're not one of our regular customers, we have no idea what you require the plane for."

"It's a business matter," said Sam shortly.

"And we have our passports with us!" Fenton added. "We're also all residents of Bayport."

"That may be so, but it will still take several hours for your clearance to come through," she answered. "There are certain security precautions we need to take when it comes to chartering a plane. If it were as simple to hire a plane as to hire a car then everyone would be doing it."

_Yeah right, and everyone can really afford to snap their fingers and hire a plane! _thought Sam, shaking his head. The woman was being ridiculous.

"Please!" said Fenton desperately. "This is very important!"

"I'm aware that the matter must be important," she told him. "Why else would you be here at this hour of the morning?"

"Then why can't you cut us some slack?" asked Sam in irritation. "Do we look like we're going to hijack the plane or something?"

"There's no need to take that tone of voice with me, Sir," the woman responded in the same professional monotone. "I'm just following procedure."

"To hell with procedure!" growled Fenton angrily. They were wasting valuable time.

The woman shot him a sharp glance. "Sir, you need to calm down or I will call Security and have you removed from the premises."

Fenton shot a desperate look at Sam and Con. This was getting them nowhere.

Con sighed and stepped up to the counter. Slowly, he withdrew his badge from his pocket and flashed it at the woman.

"Con Riley of the Bayport Police Department," he informed her coolly. "My companions are Fenton Hardy and Sam Radley, private detectives. I daresay you've heard of them?"

She stared at them suspiciously. "And do you have proof to that effect?"

Quickly, Fenton and Sam produced their passports. Con also placed his on the counter. The woman studied them closely.

Finally she looked up. "You are who you say you are," she admitted. "However, that doesn't mean I can make allowances. We have strict procedure…"

"Then perhaps you'd like to get Chief Collig out of bed at this hour of the morning and explain to him why _procedure_ is hindering a police investigation," interrupted Con, deciding on a daring bluff.

Fenton and Sam were careful to keep their expressions neutral.

"I can't…I mean…" The woman was unsure now.

"I can give you his home number," said Con taking out his cell phone. "Maybe you should get the Night Manager? It's probably better if he wakes the Chief of Police to explain the delay."

"We don't have a Night Manager," said the woman, looking extremely flustered.

"Well then you'll have to do it," said Con handing her the number and mentally crossing his fingers. "But I should warn you, he's not going to like it."

The woman stared at the number...then handed it back to Con. "Let me see what I can do," she told him.

Ten minutes later, Fenton, Sam and Con were heading for hanger seven.

"I can't believe you just did that!" said Sam shaking his head, as they made their way across the airport.

"Me neither," Con grinned. "Just don't tell Chief Collig! He might think I was abusing my position..."

"Can't imagine why," said Fenton dryly. Then he smiled. "Thanks, Con, for everything you've done tonight."

"No problem," Con replied.

They arrived at hanger seven. It was a small, private hanger, and as they entered they were approached by a tall man with sandy hair.

"You must be the Riley party," he smiled. "What did you say to get old Marcia so riled up? She's sure got a bee in her bonnet about you lot!"

"Just let her know she shouldn't be holding up the good citizens of Bayport with damn silly procedure," smiled Con as he extended his hand. "I'm Con Riley, and this is Fenton Hardy and Sam Radley."

"Nice to meet you," said the pilot. "I'm Jack Wayne."

The day had passed in the basement without Laura waking up. It was now late evening and it was obvious to the boys that their mother was sick. Frank tried to cover her with one of the ragged blankets, while Joe put his hand to her forehead as he had seen his mother do when they were sick.

Neither boy had a clue what to do.

Their mother lay shivering on the bed, mumbling incoherently and the boys could see that she was really ill.

"Frank, what are we going to do?" Joe whispered fearfully.

"I dunno," answered Frank desperately. "I think she needs a doctor."

The boys stared pale-faced at each other trying not to panic. Their kidnappers hadn't been back since breakfast, and Frank and Joe didn't know whether to be grateful for that fact or not.

On the one hand, the kidnappers might help their mother because they still needed her. But on the other, they could kill her because they found her too much work.

Frank bit his lip. One of them needed to get out of here and go for help, but how?

Frank looked at the door. No way, it was too big and heavy for them but maybe the window?

The window was a little high for him and Frank looked around the basement for something to stand on. His eyes fell on the crate.

Quickly, Frank tried to pull the crate over to the window. He pushed and shoved it panting heavily.

Joe, meanwhile, was watching his older brother with some trepidation. Was Frank going crazy?

"Urgggh!" Frank heaved.

The box moved a couple of inches. Frank was delighted. "Joe, give me a hand!" he whispered excitedly.

Joe ran over to Frank and began to push the box with his brother. "What are we doing?" he gasped.

"I'm going to try open the window, now push!" Frank panted.

For five minutes, the two little boys pushed and shoved until finally they had the box at the window.

"Phew!" said Joe, wiping his eyes. "That box was heavy!"

Frank didn't answer, he merely scrambled up on the box and stared at the window. His heart sank. Like his mother, Frank discovered it was nailed shut. All that work for nothing. Frank turned dejectedly to his brother.

"It's nailed shut," he said mournfully.

"Well then, why can't we un-nail it?" asked Joe impatiently.

Frank opened his mouth to explain to his brother then shut it abruptly. _Yes, why couldn't they un-nail it?_

Frank peered at the nails and saw that they weren't really nails, they were more like small screws, like the kind his father had used when he had put together some flat pack furniture last year.

Frank attempted to twist the screws but his fingers couldn't get a grip. Then he stuck his thumbnail into the little groove on the head of one of the screws and twisted, but all he succeeded in doing was breaking his nail.

"Ouch!" he cried and jammed his thumb in his mouth.

_Stupid screws_! thought Frank, staring furiously at the screws. And then an idea struck him. _The spoon!_

Quickly, Frank whipped out the teaspoon he had taken from the bathroom earlier that day and inserted into the little grove. _It fitted!_

Slowly, painstakingly, Frank began to turn the screws. It was hard work. The screws were stiff and the spoon wasn't the same as a proper screwdriver and kept slipping, but Frank persevered. It took nearly twenty minutes, by which time Frank's hands were sore and bruised, but it was worth it. Frank had unscrewed the window.

_Now, let's see if it opens_, Frank thought, and carefully began to push the window.

To his absolute elation, it opened and didn't squeak. Holding up the glass, Frank peered through the window, and his little flicker of hope began to die. There was no way he could fit through that window.

Frank glanced back at Joe, and saw to his surprise that Joe was staring at him with something close to awe.

"Wow, Frank! That was so cool!" Joe whispered. "You were just like MacGyver!"

MacGyver was Joe's favourite TV programme; he watched it avidly every week and afterwards, tried to copy whatever gadgets or stunts MacGyver had created that week. It often got him in trouble with his mother because it usually meant something getting broken. Yet Joe risked being grounded every week.

And now he had just compared Frank to his idol.

Frank felt himself fluff up with pride. Joe had faith in him, so maybe he couldcome up with an idea to get them out of here!

Frank glanced at his brother, then back to the window, then back to his brother again. An idea began to form in his mind.

He looked around the room, his eyes falling on his mother, then he cocked his ears to listen for the men upstairs; their TV was blaring loudly.

Frank's mouth curled into a smile. Yes, his idea could work. Now, all he had to do was convince Joe.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Fenton, do you want a sandwich?" Sam Radley's voice broke into Fenton's musings as he stared out the plane window.

"What?" said Fenton, turning to face him. "Oh, no thanks, Sam. I'm not very hungry."

"You haven't slept tonight, Fenton," Sam reminded him. "The least you can do is eat. You're no good to your family half dead."

Fenton knew he had a point.

"Thanks," he said, reluctantly taking a sandwich.

It had taken their pilot half an hour to file a flight plan, and Sam had used that time to get some drinks and snacks from the airport vending machines.

Con watched the exchange with some interest. He had seen another side of Fenton Hardy tonight, a more human side; one that cared deeply about his family. Con decided that his first impression of Fenton had been wrong.

Suddenly, Con yawned. "I don't know about you two, but there's still forty minutes of the flight left and I'm going to use them to catch a quick nap."

Con put his seat back, closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds.

Sam raised his eyebrows at Fenton. "Sounds like a pretty good idea, wouldn't you say?"

Fenton shook his head. "You go ahead and get some rest. I'm too keyed up to sleep."

Minutes later, the sound of Sam's gentle snores wafted in Fenton's direction.

Fenton smiled to himself. Sam had proved himself to be a great associate and friend tonight. Fenton knew he had been too cautious with Sam at work, not giving him any real responsibility or showing any confidence in his abilities. However, he could now fully appreciate what a great detective Sam was, and fully intended to show him the respect and trust he deserved in the future.

Despite how young he was, Con Riley had also proved himself to be an excellent police officer; cool and level-headed under pressure. It was something Fenton had always prided himself on until tonight.

Fenton sighed. He knew he had gone to pieces after he had heard about his family's kidnapping, but it was hard to be rational when it was his own family in danger. After all, they had only gone on a simple family vacation and now they were in the hands of some very dangerous men.

_I should have gone with them._

Fenton tried not to think about it. He would make it up to them when he saw them again.

_If I ever see them again._

Fenton got up abruptly, shaking the painful thought from his mind.

_I need some company or I'll drive myself mad!_

Fenton glanced at Sam and Con. Both were sleeping soundly and Fenton was unwilling to wake them. He threw his eye towards the cockpit of the plane, then moved silently in that direction and opened the door.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked quietly.

"Be my guest," Jack Wayne turned and smiled at him briefly before turning back to the controls.

"I'm sorry," said Fenton apologetically, sliding into the seat next to Jack. "I just couldn't sleep and the other two are dead to the world back there."

"That's okay, I could use the company. Work keeping you awake?"

"Not exactly." Fenton stared uneasily into the night sky.

"Anything you want to share or should I just mind my own business?"

Fenton glanced at the pilot. He liked the man's direct and honest nature, but could he trust him?

_You trusted Sam and Con_, a little voice in the back of his mind prodded.

Fenton decided to take a chance. He had been pleasantly surprised by human nature tonight.

"My family were kidnapped and we're heading up to take a look at the cabin they were taken from," Fenton told him.

"_What?_"Jack shot him an incredulous glance. "Ah jeez, I'm really sorry. Anything I can do?"

"You're already doing enough just by flying us there."

"What happened…" Jack began then shook his head. "Actually, don't answer that. I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

"It's okay, I don't mind," Fenton assured him and told him everything that had happened.

When he finished, Jack let out a low whistle.

"I've read a little about that in the paper! And I've read about you too, but I never realised you were _that _Fenton Hardy."

"Right now I wish I weren't, then my family wouldn't be in danger."

"Don't worry," said Jack. "From what I've read about you, and from what I've seen of Con and Sam, you'll have your family back safe and sound in no time."

"I wish I had your confidence, but thanks all the same." Fenton gave him a weak smile.

They sat in silence for several minutes, Jack shooting Fenton an occasional glance.

"What are you going to do after you've looked around the cabin?" asked Jack suddenly.

"I don't know," answered Fenton. "I really don't. There's only so much three of us can do."

"Maybe you'll find something at the cabin?"

"Maybe." Fenton shrugged helplessly.

Jack looked at him thoughtfully. "I'm going to be landing in less than ten minutes. Why don't you go back and buckle up? You can wake the two sleeping beauties while you're at it!"

"Okay. And thanks for listening Jack. I didn't mean to burden you with my problems."

"Don't worry about it," Jack told him.

Fifteen minutes later, all four men were climbing out of the small plane. Dawn was breaking, and its feeble light allowed the men to get a clear first look at Mount. Trenton; which consisted of a single airstrip and one grimy two-story building.

"Boy, you weren't kidding about this being a small airport!" said Sam to Con.

"Is there anywhere we can hire a car?" asked Fenton, peering towards the building.

"Nope," Con answered.

"But then how are we…"

"I made a call before we left Bayport," Con told them. "An old friend is picking us up."

"Any room for a fourth passenger?" asked Jack suddenly.

"Sure," said Con turning to him, surprised. "You need a ride somewhere?"

"Wherever you're going is just fine with me," said Jack easily. "I'd like to help in any way I can."

The others looked at him speechless.

"But I couldn't ask you to do that!" said Fenton finally.

"You didn't, I offered," Jack told him. "Now, what's say we go meet this friend of yours, Con?"

"Joe, help me, we need to move this crate back," said Frank, climbing down from the crate.

"What!" Joe exclaimed. "But, Frank, that was really hard to move!"

Joe's hand was really starting to hurt after all that pushing.

"Joe, please!" Frank begged, as he began to push the crate. "We can't let those guys see it over here or they'll know we opened the window."

Joe's eyes widened in realisation and he started to push with Frank.

It took just minutes to push the crate back to it's original position; Frank was so excited about his idea that the spurt of adrenaline that came with it gave him extra strength.

"Joe, I have an idea," said Frank in a low voice as soon as they were finished.

"What are you going to do?" asked Joe.

"Not me, you!"

"Huh?" Joe was bewildered.

"I won't fit out that window, I'm too big," Frank told him. "But you're not…"

"No way!" Joe shook his head vehemently. "I'm not leaving you and Mom!"

"Shhh!" Frank hissed at him. "Joe, listen to me! Mom needs a doctor, she's really sick. You _have _to go for help."

"But, Frank, I don't even know where we are," Joe protested. "And you're a Boy Scout, you can find help better than me!"

"I told you, I'm too big to fit through that window! It has to be you, Joe."

"But what about you? What if those men get angry when they find out I'm gone?"

"Don't worry, I have a plan," Frank assured him. "Please, Joe?"

Joe bit his lip and glanced over at where his mother lay. His heart was pounding and he felt slightly sick. He really didn't want to do this. What if those men hurt his mother and Frank when they found him gone? What if he got lost?

"Frank, how am I going to find my way?" Joe asked softly. "And how am I going to get back to you and Mom?"

"You're going to draw a map," said Frank. "Like you did yesterday, remember? The kidnappers left us pens and paper; take a pen and some paper with you."

"When do I have to go?"

"I think those guys will probably come back soon and give us something to eat. You should go after that 'cause they probably won't come back until morning and that gives you the whole night to go for help!"

"The whole night?" Joe's heart sank even further. He would be outside in the dark.

Frank knew what his brother was thinking. "Joe, I know it sounds scary, but Mom needs our help. Just think of it like you're going on an adventure like MacGyver."

Joe sighed. It was easy for Frank to say that. He wasn't going to be the one out in the dark, and even if he was, Frank wasn't afraid of the dark.

But Joe was.

Suddenly, their mother moaned and the boys hurried over to her. Both were shocked by how pale she now was. Hurriedly, Frank put his hand to her forehead.

"Joe, she's really hot!" he cried in alarm. "I think she's running a fever!"

Joe looked from his mother's pale face to his brother's scared one.

"Okay, I'll go," he said in a small voice.

Frank's face broke into a smile. "Joe, that's great! When we get out of this, Mom and Dad are going to be really proud of you."

"Yeah, sure," Joe muttered. His stomach was in knots.

"Those guys should be back soon," said Frank, "so we haven't got much time. Joe, what did you see last night when we were brought here?"

Joe frowned, thinking hard.

"Trees," he answered finally. "Lot's of trees."

"Which means we're still in the woods," Frank guessed. "Did it take a long time to drive here?"

"It felt like it," Joe admitted. "But I'm not really sure how long it was."

Just then, the boys heard movement from the kitchen upstairs and footsteps came down the stairs to the basement. They watched the basement door in silent trepidation.

Seconds later, it was flung open and one of the masked men strolled into the room. Keeping his gun on the boys, he glanced over at Laura.

"She asleep?" he growled at the boys. It was the man with the harsh voice.

Both boys nodded vigorously.

"Good!" He flung the bag of food at them. "Either of you boys need to go?"

Quickly they shook their heads.

The man laughed. He had a horrible, barking laugh that made both boys cringe.

"Last chance before beddy-byes," he taunted them.

When neither boy answered him, he gave another bark-like laugh and strode to the door. "Fine, but don't expect anyone else to bring you later if you need to go. We're done with you Hardys for the night!"

The door slammed shut behind him and the boys heard him lock it.

They looked at each other and sighed with relief.

"Joe, you'd better eat something first," said Frank. "You're going to need your strength."

Joe nodded and pulled a sandwich from the bag the kidnapper had thrown at them. Opening it, he took a bite. It tasted like paper.

"Come on, Joe, you need to eat," Frank urged.

Joe forced himself to eat the sandwich, and to ignore his growing anxiety.

Meanwhile, Frank had scavenged one of the other food bags that the kidnappers had given them, and was filling it with a sandwich, fruit and some biscuits. The he threw in a pen and some paper. When he was done, he peeled off the sweater he was wearing and then the t-shirt.

"What are you doing?" asked Joe as he watched Frank put the sweater back on again.

"I'm giving you my t-shirt so you'll have extra clothes outside," Frank explained, as he stuffed the t-shirt into the food bag. "I'd give you my sweater but I don't want them asking questions about where it's gone."

Joe stared at his brother. Frank's cleverness was a little scary sometimes.

Five minutes later, Joe was ready. He gave his sleeping mother a quick kiss then joined Frank beneath the window.

"We put the crate back, so I'm going to have to help you out the window," said Frank, trying to keep his voice from wavering. Now that Joe was actually leaving, Frank was nervous about sending his little brother out into the woods alone, but he didn't want Joe to see how nervous he was.

Joe nodded. He was too scared and apprehensive to see how nervous Frank was, and tried desperately not to show it.

_I can be brave like Frank and Mom! _

They stood beneath the window and stared at one another for a second before Frank reached over and gave Joe a hug.

"Be careful, okay?" he told Joe, a lump growing in his throat.

"You too," said Joe, trying to swallow the lump in his own throat. "And take care of Mom! I'll try and get back as quickly as I can."

The brothers exchanged one last quick hug and then Frank knelt down. He cupped his two hands together and Joe put his foot into Frank's hand, and his hand on Frank's shoulder.

"Ready?" Frank asked.

"Yeah," Joe nodded.

"Okay. One, two, three…" Frank gave a mighty push and Joe was propelled upwards. Quickly, he pulled himself through the tiny window. It was a tight squeeze but Joe was small enough to do it.

Once outside, he stuck his head back through the window for Frank to hand him out his food bag.

"Bye, Joe. Be careful," said Frank again.

Joe nodded. "I will. Bye, Frank!"

Then he was gone and Frank was left standing alone in the gloomy, silent basement.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Fenton stared forlornly at the cabin, not really seeing it.

Con Riley's friend had been waiting for them at the front of the airport in an old, weather-beaten station wagon. Tom Elling had been even more weather-beaten than the car. A huge hulk of a man with a shock of grey hair, he spoke with a lazy, small town drawl.

After Con had made the introductions, they had driven straight to the cabin. Tom had asked no questions and Fenton suspected that Con had told him everything when he had first called him. Not that Fenton cared, he was just grateful for the help.

"Where do we start?" asked Sam, breaking Fenton's thoughts.

"Inside," said Fenton decisively. "We know the kidnappers held them in there."

Sam nodded. "Okay." He glanced at Tom and Jack. They weren't police officers or detectives, and they had probably never done this before.

"Um, Tom? Jack?" Sam said. "If you see anything unusual or suspicious, would you mind…"

"Not touching it and calling you?" Jack interrupted.

Sam looked surprised and Jack chuckled. "Sam, I've watched enough TV to know that you never touch anything at a crime scene in case you disturb the evidence."

Fenton, Sam and Con laughed.

"Well, that's it then, guess our trade secrets are out!" Con joked.

All five men laughed this time.

"Come on," said Fenton, feeling better than he had all night. "Let's have a look around.

Methodically, all five men searched the cabin. They spent several hours searching carefully, peering into every nook and cranny, but they found nothing more than the remains of the kidnappers' meal and the ropes they had used to bind the Hardys to their chairs.

"Guess we're back to square one," said Sam unhappily as he looked around the living room.

"DAMMIT!" Fenton roared suddenly making them all jump. He thumped the wall in frustration as the hope he had felt coming up here was replaced by crushing disappointment.

"Think I'll go outside for a breath of air," said Tom discreetly, as he slipped from the room. Jack joined him, deciding it would be best to leave the agitated Fenton to the men who knew him best.

"This was a waste of time!" said Fenton bitterly. "These guys were professionals, they left _nothing_!"

"We haven't looked outside yet," Sam reminded him. "Maybe we'll find something there."

"I doubt it," said Fenton, despair threatening to overwhelm him once more. "If they left nothing in here, then we probably won't find anything outside."

"Even if we don't, we have other options," Con broke in. "This area is very…_local_. Strangers stand out. Maybe someone has seen something."

"How do you know so much about the area?" asked Sam curiously.

"I've been coming up here for years," answered Con. "I used to come fishing with my dad. Old Tom out there was Dad's best friend, and he used to come with us. After Dad died I continued to come up here and fish with Tom."

"How well do you know the area?" asked Sam, thinking that this journey might not have been wasted after all.

Before Con could answer they heard a shout from outside.

"Fenton? You need to come see this!" It was Jack.

The three men rushed outside to find Jack and Tom bent over something on the ground by the trees.

"What is it?" asked Fenton as he hurried over and knelt beside them.

"Glass," said Jack.

"Glass?" Con repeated as he came up behind them. "What use is that to us?"

"It's glass from a beer bottle, and it hasn't been here long," said Tom. "Now, unless your wife is a beer drinker, Fenton, I'd be wondering where this bottle came from."

The bottle was broken. Fenton peered at it intently before taking out his handkerchief and picking up a shard of glass with it.

"It's been out here all night, Fenton," Sam pointed out. "Any fingerprints would be gone by now."

"There's blood on it," Fenton informed him. "If it belongs to one of the kidnappers, maybe we can find out something through DNA."

Sam squinted at the blood that was crusted along the edge of the glass. He could feel excitement growing inside him.

"You're right, Fenton! This is great, now we really have something to go on!"

"Actually, you've more to go on than that," said Tom as he also picked up part of the glass bottle and held it up for their inspection. Fenton could see part of a beer label.

"I don't get it," he said in confusion.

"You wouldn't," Tom answered calmly. "You're not local."

Con, who had been studying the glass in Tom's hand, felt realisation dawn on him. "Tom, you're a genius. This is just what we need!"

"What?" asked Fenton, bewildered.

"Look at the label," said Con.

Fenton, Sam and Jack stared at the beer label. They could just make out the word Addingtons.

"I don't think I recognise the label," said Fenton finally.

"Exactly," said Con in excitement. "It's a local beer, brewed and sold in town. Nowhere else."

"Which means that any stranger who bought that beer would definitely be remembered," said Fenton, finally understanding what Tom and Con were getting at.

"Come on," said Sam enthusiastically. "Let's head into town."

"Okay," Fenton agreed. "Maybe the local sheriff can help us with this blood sample while we're there!"

Outside the basement, Joe waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. It was a cloudy night but Joe could see that the stone house was surrounded by trees.

Moving quietly so that he wouldn't be heard, Joe made for the shelter of the trees. Once he was safely hidden from view by the trees, he stopped and looked back. He could see the eerie stone house rising menacingly against the darkness of the sky and he shivered.

He didn't know which was scarier, the house or the looming trees.

Staring at the large, dark shapes around him, Joe tried to think clearly and not panic. _What should I do? Which way do I go?_

Joe remained where he was for several minutes thinking hard.

_Those men drove here so there must be a road_, the child told himself finally.

Staying hidden in the trees, yet keeping the house in view, Joe moved quietly until he could see the front of the house. To his relief, he could see a road leading away from the house and into the woods.

_I can follow that! _he thought.

Joe crept through the trees towards the road, keeping alert for any sight or sound of the men. He reached the road and peered through the trees at it. It wasn't really a road at all, more of a dirt track and barely wide enough to accommodate a car of any kind.

Joe was surprised that the men had been able to get the van up here.

He tried to see down the path, but beyond a few feet all he could see was black. Joe swallowed. He would have to go into that black.

Hands shaking madly, Joe pulled out the pen and paper Frank had given him. He tried to draw his map but it hurt too much to hold a pen with his right hand, so he transferred the pen to his left hand and awkwardly managed to draw a line.

_That's for the path! _he told himself firmly.

Joe began to walk towards the enveloping darkness, once more remaining in the trees.

The trees were scary, but those men were scarier. Joe didn't want to be seen on the path. He tried to reassure himself that if he kept the path in his sight he should be okay, but with each step found himself clutching the food bag tightly against his chest. His heart hammering painfully, Joe turned to look back at the house but could no longer see it. All he could see was the dark, impassive trees leaning towards him. He really was all by himself now.

Joe allowed himself a frightened little whimper before he continued with his nightmare journey.

For a long time after Joe had left, Frank remained standing beneath the window. He was beginning to have second thoughts about his plan.

Would Joe be alright? What if something happened?

Frank shivered. He really hoped nothing would happen.

Suddenly, his mother moaned and Frank spun around and hurried towards her. He hoped she wasn't waking up. If she woke up and found Joe gone, she would panic and bring the men down here, and Frank didn't want them knowing Joe was gone.

At least not until morning.

In his haste to reach his mother, Frank bumped into the second bed and tripped, moving the bed as he did so.

Frozen, he remained on the floor watching his mother.

But Laura Hardy never woke. She mumbled incoherently and turned on her side. Frank heaved a sigh of relief.

Rubbing his throbbing knee from where he had bumped it on the bed, Frank turned to look at the bed. He noticed the bed had wheels on it. Another idea flashed through Frank's mind and he smiled.

_Wonder if it squeaks? _he thought.

Frank pulled himself up off the dusty floor and slowly pushed the bed. It slid silently across the floor. Excited, Frank pushed the bed further and once more it moved noiselessly.

_Yes! _he cheered inwardly.

Slowly, carefully, Frank pushed the bed to the window. Once there, he climbed onto the bed and proceeded to re-nail the window.

_Let's see that confuse them! _he smiled gleefully to himself.

When he was finished, he quietly moved the bed back to it's original position and trotted over to his mother. She still felt very hot.

Sighing, Frank climbed into the bed beside his mother and snuggled up to her. He didn't care if he got sick. Right now, he felt very scared and alone and he wanted to be comforted.

Frank thought of Joe. He really hoped nothing would happen to him out there. Frank was very fond of his little brother.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

After their discovery at the cabin, Fenton and his companions had driven straight into town where Tom had brought them to _Dan's_, the bar which brewed and sold Addingtons. Unfortunately, the owner - a wizened old man called Andy - had told them that there had been no strangers in the bar for at least two weeks, much less one that had bought the local beer.

Dejected, they left the bar.

"Well, that was a waste of time," said Sam gloomily.

"Not necessarily," said Fenton thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

Sam looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Well, from what I can see, this might be a small town but the area is pretty big," said Fenton. "Lots of twisty little roads and turnoffs. Without Con and Tom's help, we would have been completely lost."

"I know, what's your point?" asked Sam.

"My point is that the kidnappers seem to know the area," said Fenton. "There had to have been more than one, yet they were able to find the cabin _and_ move my family out of there without anyone noticing."

"It was dark when they moved them, and it's a wooded area," Jack pointed out. "It wouldn't have been very hard to do."

"But without looking for directions? And in the dark?" Fenton prodded. "Pretty mean feat for some out-of-towners, wouldn't you say?"

"We don't know that, they could have stopped for directions," objected Sam.

"No, they couldn't," Tom broke in. "Old Andy would've told us once he knew we were looking for strangers."

"Old Andy might not have known," Sam answered.

"Oh, but he would. There ain't anything Old Andy don't know about the comings and goings in this town," said Tom.

"Exactly!" said Fenton. "So how did those kidnappers manage to find their way around here without asking for help…"

"Unless there's someone local involved!" Con finished, stunned.

"That would explain why Andy doesn't remember any strangers buying the beer," said Sam slowly. "Because it was bought by someone local."

"Looks like it," said Tom unhappily.

"Tom, where's your sheriff's office?" Fenton asked. "I want to get that blood checked out."

"It's just down here," said Tom. "Come on, I'll show you."

"No," said Fenton. "I want you and Con to go back into the bar and find out from Old Andy - _without_ getting his suspicions up - which locals drink that beer. I have a feeling he might be more forthcoming with someone he knows."

Tom nodded. "Will do. Sheriff's office is down this street, turn right at the bank and it's at the end of that street on the left. Ask for Sheriff Coombs because his Deputy, Rawston, is a snippy little whelp! Tell 'em Tom sent you."

"Thanks, Tom," said Fenton. "Why don't you and Con follow us over when you're finished?"

"Sure thing," smiled the old man, as he and Con headed back into the bar.

"Fenton, let me do the talking when we get there," said Sam. "Just in case anyone recognises the name Hardy."

Fenton nodded. "Good idea, Sam. Here's the glass."

Fenton removed the glass - which he had placed in a bag to preserve it - from his pocket and handed it to Sam. Then the three men quickly followed the directions Tom had given them. They arrived at a small, dusty, red-brick building and entered to find a rather round, brown haired man in uniform behind the desk.

"Excuse me," said Sam as the man looked up. "I was wondering if you could help us? We're looking for Sheriff Coombs."

"That would be me," boomed the man jovially. "What can I do for you folks?"

"Tom Elling sent us to see you," Sam explained. "My name is Sam Radley and I'm investigating a case that's led us up here."

The Sheriff nodded but didn't speak.

"I found this," said Sam, holding out the broken glass, "and was wondering if I could have it analysed. It's extremely urgent."

The Sheriff stared thoughtfully at the bag.

"You know, usually I'd have to tell you that I can't help you because we haven't got that sort of equipment here," Sheriff Coombs told them.

"But today?" Sam asked.

"I can tell you that we don't have that sort of equipment here, but I know of someone who does," the sheriff answered. "But it's not exactly above board…"

"That doesn't matter," interrupted Fenton hurriedly. "We're not exactly looking for this to stand up in court."

"You aren't?" the sheriff stared at them a little suspiciously, his friendly manner evaporating. "I thought you were working on a case, wouldn't you need any evidence to be admissible in court?"

Fenton stared at the man. With their suspicions that someone local may be involved, there was no way he wanted to give the full story to anyone, even to the sheriff.

When none of the men answered him, the sheriff rose from his seat. "I don't know what's going on here, but you'd better be able to provide me with proof that you really are detectives."

"They're okay, Jim," said a voice from behind them, and the three men spun around to see Con coming through the door with Tom Elling right behind him.

The sheriff's face split in a wide smile. "Con Riley! When did you get here?"

Con approached the sheriff and they shook hands. "Just this morning, Jim. How've you been?"

"Pretty good," Sheriff Coombs answered. "Although Elise has me on some darned diet. Keeps telling me it's for my health."

Con laughed and his eyes strayed to the desk where a mug of coffee and a plate of biscuits sat. "Look's like you're really sticking to it too."

The sheriff grinned. "What Elise doesn't know won't hurt her! So, what brings you to our neck of the woods? Didn't think it was time for your usual trip just yet."

"It's not." Con glanced at Fenton. "Jim, have you got somewhere we could go to talk?"

"What's wrong with here?" asked the sheriff. "There's no one here. Rawston's been out sick for the last few days, and there's no one in the cells."

"You sure we won't be overheard?" asked Con.

"Positive," answered Sheriff Coombs. "Come on, we'll go into my office." He led the way to a door behind the front desk and opened it. The men tramped into the small office and the sheriff closed the door.

"Okay, Con, spill. What's going on?" he asked.

Quickly, Con told him everything that had happened, from the kidnapping right up to their suspicions that someone local might be involved.

The sheriff frowned. "Someone local? I don't think I can believe that. That beer bottle could have been up there before your family even arrived, Mr. Hardy."

"Not a chance," Tom said. "That bottle was there less than twenty four hours, I'm certain about that."

The sheriff sighed. "Then that's good enough for me. But I don't know of _anyone_ around here who would be involved in something like this."

"Me neither," Tom agreed.

"But someone has to be," Fenton insisted. "Tom, did Andy tell you who drinks that beer around here?"

"Nope," Tom answered. "It was easier to tell me who didn't drink it, because just about everyone around here does."

Sam groaned. "We may as well be looking for a needle in a haystack!"

"We still have the blood sample," Fenton reminded him. "Sheriff, you mentioned something earlier about getting it checked out. How do we go about doing that?"

The sheriff shifted uneasily in his chair. "We have a local boy who's a bit of a whiz kid. He's got all sorts of crazy stuff set up in his barn and I know he's got the technology to test that blood sample for you, but I really don't want to get the kid in trouble."

"This kid can help me find my family," said Fenton, "I have every intention of looking the other way."

"That's good," Sheriff Coombs smiled. "I know what the kid does isn't exactly legal, but I've never touched him because I know it's harmless. And sometimes that crazy stuff he deals with can actually be helpful!"

"Such as now," said Fenton. "Can you take me to him?"

"I could," said the sheriff slowly. "But his place is nearly an hours drive from here, and I don't know how long it will take him to test this sample…"

"What? You think it might be a waste of time?" asked Con.

"No. But I don't think we all need to go out there," answered the sheriff. "You fellows have been up all night and it's now nearly five, why don't you get some rest and I'll take it?"

Fenton hesitated. Could they trust this man?

Con seemed to know what he was thinking. "It's okay, Fenton. Jim can take care of it."

"And we're no use to your family if we collapse from exhaustion," Sam pointed out.

Reluctantly, Fenton agreed.

"Is there a hotel or something around here we could check in to?" Jack asked.

"No, but Martha Kelly has a boarding house," the sheriff told them. "You head up there, and I'll meet you there when I'm done."

"I'll take 'em," said Tom. "Martha will look after you and make sure you eat something proper."

Sure enough, Tom led them to a pretty two-story house just down from the sheriff's office, where a bustling, kindly old woman insisted on making them something to eat. While she prepared a quick meal, Con went to the store and picked up toothbrushes and other necessities for them.

Once they had eaten, they retired to the rooms that Martha had prepared for them. Tom went home, insisting that Con ring him the instant Sheriff Coombs returned.

As Fenton climbed into bed, he felt certain he wouldn't sleep. His mind was too filled with images of his family and what might be happening to them. However, Fenton had underestimated just how exhausted he really was; he was asleep in seconds.

**A/N**: _Please, if you have the chance, take the time to review. I've had over 500 reads in the last 24 hours but only one review. Feedback is always appreciated, it makes an author feel like their effort is worth it! _


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Joe was exhausted. He had been stumbling along in the darkness for hours and there was no end to this path. Shivering, he sat down and pulled Frank's t-shirt out of the bag and put it on. It didn't offer much protection against the cold night air.

Joe pulled out a sandwich and started to eat. He wasn't hungry, but he needed to sit down and eating distracted him from the shadows around him.

He shivered again. He had never been so miserable in his life. He was freezing, exhausted and scared, and his hand was burning fiercely. But worst of all, he was alone.

_At least I was with Mom and Frank in the basement. _

He was beginning to wonder whether he should have left the basement. After all, he still hadn't found help.

Joe sighed and finished his sandwich. It was too late to turn back now.

He got up and moved forward wearily. He hadn't gone very far when the path opened out into a clearing. The break in the trees allowed some of the pale moonlight to filter through. For the first time since he had entered the woods, Joe could see clearly. Adding the clearing to his map, he looked around. His heart sank when he saw that the road forked in two.

_Which way do I go now?_

Moving towards the fork in the road, he peered down both paths. The left looked a little overgrown but Joe could still see several yards down that path, the right path darkened after a few feet. He remained where he was for several minutes, unsure which way to go and trying vainly to remember anything from the journey in the van the night before.

Suddenly, Joe heard a snapping in the bushes behind him and turned around. He froze as three wild dogs emerged from the trees. They were pitiful, starving creatures, drawn by the smell of food from Joe's bag, but the child didn't know this. All his terrified eyes could see were three huge shapes.

One of the dogs growled savagely and Joe took a quick step back, clutching his bag against his chest. Desperately, he searched the ground for something to use as a weapon; a fallen branch or something, _anything_, but there was nothing.

Swallowing hard, Joe backed up against a tree as the dogs advanced on him. He could feel tears prick his eyes.

_Oh help! Help! Please help! _he prayed silently.

Just then, a small shape scurried out of the bushes and ran between Joe and the dogs. One of the dogs ran at the creature, then suddenly retreated with a whimper. Turning tail, the three dogs ran back into the woods.

Joe was floored at the unexpected behaviour of the dogs. What had happened? He stared at the small shape scurrying into the bushes once more and caught a glimpse of a white stripe before it disappeared.

_A skunk! _Joe realised excitedly.

Then the whiff of something putrid reached his nose. Joe's stomach turned and he retched. Dropping his bag, Joe clamped his hands over his nose and mouth. The smell was worse than anything he could have imagined!

Backing up a little, Joe found himself standing on the left path. He stared down it. The path was a little overgrown but it _was_ brighter than the other path and Joe wondered if he should follow this path.

Seconds later, the decision was made for him when the three dogs returned to the clearing. As soon as Joe saw them, he turned and fled down the path. He never saw them make for the bag of food, he just kept running.

"Fenton! Wake up! Sheriff Coombs is here."

Fenton felt someone shaking him. Drowsily, he lifted his head.

"Mmmm? What?" he mumbled.

Sam Radley was staring down at him. "Fenton, come on! He has the results of the DNA test."

Instantly awake, Fenton scrambled out of bed. "What time is it?" he demanded.

"Nearly two thirty," Sam answered. He was already dressed.

"_In the morning_?" Fenton was incredulous. How long had they been asleep?

Sam nodded. "The sheriff said it took longer than he anticipated. He'll explain everything downstairs. Tom is on his way over and Jack is putting on some coffee."

Sam left the room and went downstairs, leaving Fenton to dress and brush his teeth. When he was ready, Fenton made his way downstairs.

In the kitchen, Jack was helping Martha make some coffee and sandwiches. Con, Sam and the sheriff were seated around the table.

"Fenton," the sheriff greeted him as he appeared in the doorway. "Have a seat. I'm sorry I'm so late getting back to you, but when I got out there, Ryan - that's the kid's name - was out. It was nearly eleven before he came home."

Fenton slid into the chair beside the sheriff. "What did you find out?" he asked anxiously.

"I'm just waiting for Tom to get here," said the sheriff, "and I'll explain everything."

"In the meantime, you can have something to eat," said Martha firmly before Fenton could protest.

"I've already wasted one day," said Fenton. "I need to get going on this now!"

"Ten minutes won't make a difference," Martha told him sternly as she put a plate of sandwiches on the table. "Now I insist you eat up!"

Fenton sighed and took a sandwich. There was something about this woman that reminded him of his sister.

Five minutes later, Tom walked into the kitchen. "Evening all, what have I missed?"

"Nothing," replied Con. "We were waiting for you to get here."

Tom eased himself into a chair beside Sam. "Well, I'm here now. So out with it, Jim, what did you find?"

"After he tested the blood, it took a long time for Ryan to find anything because he had a little trouble accessing the FBI records," Sheriff Coombs began. Seeing their shocked looks, he added, "the kid's a hacker. How else did you think he was going to get that information?"

"Guess we didn't really think," said Sam.

"Yeah, well, it might not be legit, but the state doesn't think a town as small as ours warrants its own forensics lab," snorted the sheriff. "We have to send everything out, and that can take anything from days to weeks so you should probably be glad that Ryan…"

"We are glad," Fenton interrupted quickly. "And what Ryan did tonight won't go beyond these walls."

"You can count on that," Sam agreed. "If we were in your shoes and had Ryan to turn to, we'd be turning a blind eye to his…hobbies too, believe me!"

The sheriff grinned. "That's okay then, 'cause he really is a good kid."

"What did he find?" asked Fenton and the sheriff's smile faded.

"He didn't find a direct match to the blood," said the sheriff. "But he did find seven markers in common with DNA that's already on file."

"So the blood from the cabin could only belong to a blood relative then?" guessed Sam.

The sheriff nodded. "You got it, and the blood from the cabin belongs to a male."

"And?" said Fenton impatiently. "Who was the name on the file?"

The sheriff lowered his gaze, his eyes unable to meet Fenton's.

"It was yours," he replied.

_**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, your comments mean alot to me._

**Kandy Kane:** I'm glad you thought that. I intended the first three chapters to be peaceful in order for the kidnappers appearance to be that bit more brutal.

**Conventina:** Thanks, I had fun playing and developing Fenton's character in this story.

**Mocha Addict:** I'm a lover of Joe angst myself! But I do try to give both brothers equal time on the page...however, Joe's trouble magnet slips in unannounced sometimes! ;-)

**ovrlord11:** Thanks, I tried. I hate OOC behaviour from a main character.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Joe ran down the path away from the dogs. It was several minutes before he realised they weren't chasing him. Slowly he came to a halt, gasping. Somewhere overhead, an owl hooted and Joe jumped. He'd had a bad fright and was now feeling a little hysterical. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.

_I'm okay_, he told himself. _I'm okay_.

His heart was hammering madly and his breathing was becoming tight in his chest. Joe opened his eyes and felt the trees close in around him.

_I'm okay_, he told himself again.

The pain in his chest got worse and Joe felt dizzy. The shadows of the trees pressed closer.

_I'm okay_! _I'm okay_! _I'm okay_! Joe tried to reassure himself as his head started to pound. The woods spun and Joe found he couldn't draw breath. He was having a panic attack!

Joe tried to inhale but his chest hurt and he was shaking painfully. _Stop it! Stop it! _his mind yelled at him. _Frank and Mom need you!_

His last thought was his anchor. Keeping his thoughts on his mother and his brother, Joe slowly managed to calm down and breath normally.

Still trembling, the child started to move forwards down the path. He had to get help for his mother and Frank, he had to!

Joe's legs were shaky and weak but he forced himself to walk.

After ten minutes, Joe thought he heard something in the distance and stopped. It was the distant roar of a motor.

Joe felt excitement grow. Was he near the road?

However, seconds later, Joe saw a flash of light through the trees and froze. _There was a car coming down this path! _

Joe knew it had to be the kidnappers. No one else could possibly be travelling on this desolate path through the woods at this time of night. Panicking, the little boy rushed off the path through the trees. In his haste, his foot got caught in a tree root and Joe fell headlong down a steep incline. As he landed at the bottom, his head smashed into something hard. Joe saw an explosion of light and then darkness.

Frank couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see his brother lying hurt somewhere.

It had been hours since Joe had left, and Frank was thoroughly beginning to regret his plan to send Joe for help. What if something happened?

Frank sighed and turned on his side. _You and your big idea! _he scolded himself.

Suddenly, Frank heard the sound of a car outside. He froze as he heard loud voices enter the house. It was still night-time, what was going on?

Frank heard a murmured discussion upstairs and then the sound of footsteps coming towards the basement.

_No! _he thought, terrified. _Don't come down here now!_

The footsteps came closer. Quickly, Frank grabbed one of his pillows and pulled off his sweater. He put the pillow down between his mother and himself, then put the sweater in a ball on top. He covered the lump and tried to make it resemble Joe as best he could. Then Frank lay back down, pulled the covers up and closed his eyes.

He heard the lock turn and the door opened. Frank lay still, hardly daring to breath.

_Oh please, _he thought. _Please_…

After several agonizing seconds, the door closed and Frank heard the lock turn again. It wasn't until he heard the footsteps go back up the stairs and the murmured discussion resume once more, that he allowed himself a sigh of relief.

_That was close!_

Frank strained his ears to hear what was going on. A door closed and minutes later, he heard the car start up again and drive away.

Frank was confused. The kidnappers had told them they wouldn't be back that night.

_What's going on? _he wondered.

"What?" gasped Fenton into the horrified silence.

The sheriff shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "The blood found at the cabin had seven markers in common with your blood, Fenton. It belongs to one of your sons."

Fenton stared in shock at the sheriff as the silence in the kitchen grew. No one knew what to say.

Finally, Con broke the silence. "Fenton, it might be nothing. One of the boys could have fallen, that's all."

Numbly, Fenton shook his head. "What if they've hurt them? What if they've already killed them?"

"No way!" said Sam firmly. "They need them, Fenton, you know that. Con's probably right, one of the boys must have fallen."

"So where do we go from here?" asked Jack.

"We need to go back to the cabin," said Sheriff Coombs firmly. "That beer bottle suggests these guys are hiding out locally, so we need to find some hint or trail telling us where."

"We found nothing earlier," Tom reminded him.

"Yeah, but this time I'm bringing reinforcements," said the sheriff grimly. "You lot head down to the station. I'll meet you there in thirty minutes, I just have something I need to do first."

"Wait!" said Fenton sharply. "If someone local is involved in all this, then I don't want word getting out about what we're doing here."

The sheriff chuckled. "Don't worry, Fenton. The guy I have in mind isn't exactly big on talking!"

Half an hour later, after they had thanked Martha for her hospitality, Fenton, Sam, Con, Jack and Tom were sitting in the sheriff's office, waiting for Sheriff Coombs to reappear.

Fenton was starting to get a little apprehensive. "Con, are you sure we can trust this man?"

"Positive," said Con. "I've known him nearly as long as I've known Tom. You can trust him, he knows what he's doing."

The front door opened and a tall, thin man with dirty blond hair and a pale face walked in. He stopped dead when he saw the crowd of men clustered there.

"What's going on?" he asked in surprise.

"We're waiting for Sheriff Coombs," said Tom, a little edgily. "He told us you were out sick, Deputy."

"I was," answered the other man hoarsely. "Damned flu or something. But I felt much better today and came down to tell the sheriff that I'd be back at work tomorrow."

"And you came down here at this hour of the morning just to tell him that?" asked Sam raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"What can I say?" the man shrugged. "I've spent the last three days in bed, and I'm finding it a little hard to sleep right now."

"I can tell him for you when he gets back, Deputy," Tom offered quickly, and Fenton had the impression that he was trying to get rid of the man.

"No need," said a voice from behind the man. They all looked at the door just in time to see the sheriff enter; a huge bloodhound on a leash walked lazily behind him!

"This is reinforcements?" asked Jack, staring.

"Yup! Best bloodhound in the area," said the sheriff proudly. "Rawston," he addressed the other man. "Did I hear you right? Are you coming back to work?"

"Yes, sir," replied Rawston.

"Excellent! One more man to add to the team," said the sheriff. "I need you tonight, Rawston, I'll explain on the way."

"We're bringing the dog?" asked Fenton. "But there may be nothing of use at the cabin for him to smell."

Fenton's voice trailed off as the sheriff pulled a little paper bag from his pocket. Inside was the broken beer bottle.

"If there isn't then we've got the blood on this," said the sheriff. "It may not seem like much, but old JR can get a scent from anything." He patted the dog proudly.

"JR?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah, er…wife's a big _Dallas_ fan," the sheriff admitted sheepishly.

The others laughed.

"Well then, let's get going," said the sheriff. "You lot lead the way in Tom's car. Rawston and JR can come with me in the patrol car. I'll explain the whole thing to Rawston on the way."

Quickly, the men climbed into their assigned vehicles and pulled out. They headed in the direction of the cabin.

Fenton remained quiet while the other men discussed the possibilities of what they might discover using JR. He didn't want to get his hopes up, there had been too many dead ends so far. He closed his eyes as he thought of his family. The idea that one of his children might have been hurt was making him sick to his stomach, and further emphasised the awful fact that these men were extremely dangerous.

"Fenton?" Sam broke into his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

Fenton smiled weakly at Sam. "I'm fine," he answered.

Sam nodded understandingly.

"You know, something has just occurred to me," said Con suddenly, from his position in the front seat.

"What's that?" asked Fenton.

"I'm supposed to be working in about two hours. How am I going to explain to Chief Collig that I'm otherwise occupied?"

Sam grinned wickedly. "Never mind that, how are you going to explain that you used his name to hire a private plane?"

"I'm hoping he won't hear about that one," Con remarked dryly. "I don't think he…LOOK OUT!"

Tom suddenly veered to the left, and they all lurched forward in their seats as the car careened wildly across the road.

_**A/N:** Again, thank you all for your wonderful reviews. The story is finished so I'm posting a chapter a day (or at least, whenever I get the chance!), so don't worry about waiting for updates!_

**Paperdaises:** I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and thank you for your comments on how I portray the Hardys. There's 17 chapters to this story in total, so you have a few left to read yet!

**foxmask**: Yes, Joe is the best, definitely my favourite Hardy brother in case you couldn't tell:)

**The Silent Rumble:** Thanks. It's great to hear people are enjoying the story! I know I said I don't really care for OOC but I meant over-the-top OOC, I'm okay wiht little blips now and again!


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Joe opened his eyes. His head was throbbing painfully and it was black all around him.

_Where am I? _he thought groggily.

Struggling to sit up, a sharp, lancing pain tore through his right hand and Joe moaned.

_What's going on? Where am I? _

Cradling his hand against him, Joe stared in confusion at the trees around him. What was he doing in the woods?

Joe closed his eyes and tried to think. His head was swimming and he really wanted to go to sleep, but instinct was screaming at him to stay awake.

A jumble of images flashed through his mind.

_Men in masks_…_Frank telling him to get help_…_his mother sick_…_SICK!_

Joe opened his eyes as it all came rushing back to him. Help! He had to go for help!

Shakily, the little boy struggled to his feet, his left hand using a tree for leverage. His right hand was completely incapacitated with pain and felt strangely wet.

Joe wondered vaguely if the medicine his mother had put on it earlier had worn off.

Looking up, Joe could just make out the shadow of the incline that he had fallen down. He made a feeble attempt to climb back up, but slipped and fell again.

Hot tears began to fall down Joe's face. How on earth was he going to get back up there? What would happen to Frank and his mother if he didn't?

Joe's sobs caught in his throat. His mother and his brother were counting on him. Joe _had _to get back up there!

Gritting his teeth with determination and his face still wet with tears, Joe began to crawl slowly up the steep incline. His kept his right hand against his chest and used his left to grip tree roots, vines, grass…anything he could use to help pull himself up. Twenty minutes later, Joe heaved himself back onto the path and lay there panting.

_I did it! _he crowed triumphantly.

Joe gave himself a few minutes to catch his breath before setting off down the path again. He had no idea what time it was or how long he had been lying at the bottom of the incline, but he knew he needed to get help soon.

Tottering unsteadily, Joe forced himself to move faster. He could do this. He'd come this far, hadn't he?

But an hour later, exhaustion, pain and dizziness were finally starting to overwhelm him. Sheer stubborn determination was all that was keeping him moving. His mind had become so foggy that Joe was now unaware of where he was going, all he knew was that he had to keep following the path.

When the lights came towards him, Joe knew it was the kidnappers. He was too exhausted to care and as he stumbled to his knees, he was dimly aware of excited yelling.

_They found me_, he thought. _I'm sorry, Frank. I couldn't do it, I couldn't get help_.

The car screeched to a halt as Tom slammed on the brakes. "Is everyone okay?" he asked in a shaky voice.

"Yeah," mumbled Jack. "Think so."

"Me too," said Sam dazedly.

"What happened?" asked Fenton.

"Something just barrelled out of the woods onto the road in front of us," said Con as he opened his door. "I'm going to have a look."

Fenton also got out, just as the sheriff and Rawston pulled the patrol car to a stop a few feet behind them.

"What happened?" the sheriff yelled.

"Not sure," Fenton called back, as he and Con moved towards the small shape in the middle of the road. "We…"

Fenton stopped dead. Beside him, he heard Con's sharp intake of breath. His own breath was frozen in his throat. Fenton recognised the small figure kneeling in the road and swaying from side to side. But it couldn't be….

"_Joe_?" Fenton gasped.

The figure looked up.

"D-daddy?"

"Joe! Oh, God! Joe!" Fenton raced forward, dropped to his knees and pulled his son into his arms. Joe collapsed into his father sobbing.

"Shhh! It's alright, Joe. You're safe now, it's okay. No one's going to hurt you," said Fenton soothingly as he stroked his son's hair.

The other men stood behind him in flabbergasted amazement. Where in the world had the child come from?

After several minutes, Joe stopped crying and Fenton stood up, lifting Joe with him. The child's head flopped in exhaustion onto his father's shoulder. Fenton turned around to face the other men. Their stunned faces said it all.

The sheriff was the first to speak. "Fenton, I have a first aid kit and a canteen of water in the car."

Fenton nodded and carried Joe to the patrol car. Sitting Joe into the passenger seat, Fenton crouched down beside it. Taking the water canteen from the sheriff, he gave a little water to Joe. Fenton's eyes travelled over the muddy, torn clothes, the pale face and the swollen, bloody lump on his son's temple.

"Joe, what happened?" Fenton asked softly. "How did you get away?"

"Frank put me out a window," Joe mumbled.

"What?" said Fenton, startled.

"Frank put me out a window," Joe repeated, his eyes closing sleepily. God he was tired.

"Joe, what do you mean? Where's Frank and your mother?"

"Too big…to fit out window."

"Where are they, Joe?" Fenton tried to keep the urgency out of his voice.

"Still in the…basement," Joe whispered.

_Basement_.

Something clicked in Joe's mind and he sat bolt upright in the car.

"Mom! Frank! We have to save them!"

"Shhh! We will, Joe, we will," Fenton assured him. "But we need to get you to the hospital first…"

"NO!" Joe shouted, becoming agitated. "We have to save them before they know I'm gone!"

"Before who knows you're gone?" said Fenton sharply. "Joe, what do you mean? I thought you said Frank put you out a window?"

"Not Frank, the men," Joe explained. "They don't know I'm gone."

There were gasps of astonishment from the men.

"Joe," said Sam. "Are you telling us the kidnappers think you're still in the basement?"

Joe nodded.

"How, Joe? Tell us what happened." Fenton's voice was coaxing so as not to alarm the child.

Joe told his father as much as he could remember since the kidnappers had first arrived in the cabin, to his journey through the woods. When he was finished, Fenton turned to the others.

"Four of them," he said, "and seven of us. If we act before they know Joe's missing, maybe we can get Frank and Laura out of there safely."

"How?" asked Jack.

"We can surprise them," said Fenton. "But we need to get going. We've only got a little time to pull this off." Turning to Joe, he asked, "Joe, do you think you can show us the way back to the house?"

Joe nodded. "Are we going to get Frank and Mom back?"

"We sure are, Joe," Fenton assured him.

Suddenly, Rawston spoke up. "Umm, Mr. Hardy, I don't want to tell you what to do but shouldn't we get him to a hospital? It sounds like he hit his head pretty hard and look at his hand. He's hurt."

Fenton looked at Joe's hand and noticed the blood-soaked bandage for the first time. He hissed in anger. "Joe! What happened to your hand?"

Joe glanced down at his hand. "I fell and cut my hand," he explained. "I think there was glass on the ground."

"The glass bottle," Sam muttered to Fenton.

Fenton nodded. "Joe, let me see your hand."

"No," said Joe quickly. "Mom's already looked at it! We need to go get Mom and Frank _now_!"

"The sooner I see your hand, the sooner we can go get your mom and Frank," said Fenton firmly.

Sighing, Joe held out his hand. Fenton unwrapped the bandage and Joe winced as he did so. "That hurts, Dad," he said in a small voice.

"I know, I'm sorry, Joe," said Fenton as he examined the hand. The cut was long and deep, and bleeding heavily. Joe badly needed stitches.

"I can take him to the hospital while you get your wife and son," Rawston offered.

"But we need Joe to find the house," Con pointed out.

"It sounds to me like we can just follow the path," said Jack. "And at least Joe would be safe at the hospital. They have guns, Fenton. This rescue will be dangerous."

"You're right," Fenton conceded. "Deputy, are you sure you don't mind taking Joe?"

"No problem, Mr. Hardy," Rawston began. "I…"

"I'm not going to the hospital."

All the men turned to look at Joe. He was staring obstinately at his father. "I'm going with you."

"No way, Joe," said Fenton. "This is too dangerous…"

"You need me to find the house," Joe argued. "You said so."

"We can follow the path," Fenton told him.

"There's a turn in the path," Joe replied.

"And you can tell us which one to take," said Fenton firmly.

"I'm not telling you," said Joe. "I'm _showing_ you." He folded his arms and glared at his father.

"Joe, you need to go to the hospital," said Sam. "Don't worry, we'll get Frank and your mom out safe."

"_No_! I told Frank that I'd come back."

The men stared down at the stubborn little face.

Fenton sighed. He knew Joe too well to hope that he would give in. Pulling Sam aside, Fenton whispered, "we can't waste anymore time. Let's bring Joe with us in the car. We won't be able to bring the cars as far as the house in case the kidnappers hear us, so we can just leave Joe in the car with Rawston."

Sam nodded.

"Okay, Joe," said Fenton, turning back to his son. "Let's go get your mother and Frank."

They climbed back into the cars. Jack Wayne was now in the patrol car with the sheriff, Rawston and JR. Joe was nestled in his father's arms in Tom Elling's station wagon. There was a grim silence in both cars as they drove along the dark path. Twenty minutes into the journey, Joe fell asleep.

Sam glanced at the boy as they trundled up the path. "I can't believe he came all this way in the dark, Fenton. He must have been terrified."

"He was desperate," said Fenton grimly, unconsciously tightening his hold on his son.

"Maybe, but it was still a very brave thing for a small child to do," Con put in. "You've got some son, Fenton."

Fenton nodded. _I've got some family_, he thought.

From what Joe had told him, Frank and Laura had shown equal bravery in how they were handling the situation. Frank's brainwave with the spoon had really impressed Fenton. It never ceased to amaze him just how smart Frank could be.

_As for Laura_…

He stared out the window. Joe had said Laura was very ill, and Fenton was terrified that the men might try something while she was so vulnerable.

Fenton swallowed the anger in his throat. He couldn't wait to get his hands on these men.

"Fenton, we're at the break in the road," Tom interrupted his musings. "You need to wake Joe."

Fenton gently shook his son. "Joe? Wake up, son. We need your help."

Joe awoke with a groan. His head was still throbbing and his hand was in agony.

"Are you okay?" asked his father staring down at him in concern.

Joe nodded. If his father knew how bad he really felt, he would probably send Joe straight to the hospital. And Joe wasn't going anywhere without his mother or his brother.

"Which way do we go, Joe?" asked Con gently, as the patrol car pulled in behind them.

Joe stared out the car window at both pathways and started to panic. He couldn't remember. Frowning, Joe bit his lip. _Which way did I go? _he wondered as he looked back and forth between both paths. The panic continued to rise. They both looked exactly the same.

The men were silent. They had seen the look of panic that crossed Joe's face and knew he was struggling to remember which way to go.

_Which way? Which way? _Joe strained to remember but his head felt thick. _And I lost my map too! _the child thought wildly.

Suddenly, his face lit up. The map! He had lost the map here!

Before Fenton could stop him, Joe had opened the car door, and was out and running to where he had dropped his bag.

The bag lay tossed and scattered. The dogs had ripped it apart. Joe rooted through the grass to find his map while the men stared at him, baffled.

Joe's hand closed on some paper and he yanked it up. But the moon was gone and he had no light.

"I can't see my map!" he wailed.

"Map?" Fenton repeated.

"I drew a map," said Joe. "So I'd know how to get back to Mom and Frank."

Upon hearing this, Tom Elling stepped out of the station wagon and handed a torch to Joe. "Here," he smiled. "I always keep this in the glove compartment just in case."

"Thanks," Joe smiled shyly at the old man. Switching on the torch, he aimed it at the map. After several seconds of studying the map, Joe pointed at one of the paths.

"That way," he told his father.

"Joe, are you sure?" Fenton asked. He had caught a glimpse of the map, it looked like nothing more than a few squiggles to him.

"Positive," Joe nodded confidently.

"Okay," said Fenton. "Lets get going."

They piled back into the car and set off again, stopping every now and again so that someone could get out and run up ahead to see if they were near the house. They didn't want to run the risk of the kidnappers hearing the cars.

Dawn was breaking when Sam took his turn to get out and run ahead. He came back five minutes later, grim-faced.

"This is it," he said. "The house is just up ahead."

All seven men climbed from the cars. Fenton turned to Rawston. "Can you stay with Joe?" he asked.

Rawston nodded. "No problem."

Joe opened his mouth to protest but his father stopped him.

"No, Joe," he said, holding up his hand. "This is too dangerous."

Joe looked ready to argue so Fenton added softly, "I can't get your mom and Frank out safely if I have to worry about you too."

"Okay," said Joe unhappily. He badly wanted to go with his father, but he wanted his mother and Frank home safe even more.

"Wait here for us, Joe. I promise we'll be back soon," his father reassured him.

Joe nodded and bit his lip.

As the other men moved out of sight, Rawston turned to Joe.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get you to the hospital."

Joe shook his head. "Dad told us to wait."

"You're hurt and you need to go to the hospital," said Rawston. "Get in the car, Joe."

"I'm not going anywhere without Mom and Frank," Joe declared.

"Yes you are, you're coming with me to the hospital," Rawston insisted angrily.

"You can't make me!" Joe snapped. He didn't like this man.

"Want to bet?" said Rawston and laughed.

Joe's blood ran cold. That laugh! That horrible, bark-like laugh!

Rawston saw the flash of recognition cross Joe's face and lunged at the child. Joe turned to run but Rawston grabbed him quickly, pinning both arms to his side.

"You almost ruined everything!" he hissed at Joe. "I'll be damned if I'll let that happen!"

Joe tried to yell but Rawston clamped a hand over his mouth. As he struggled in the man's grip, Joe could hear JR barking wildly from the backseat of the patrol car. He couldn't believe this was happening. This man was a police officer!

"And Fenton thought he was being so clever leaving you here with me," Rawston sneered. "Wonder what he'd say if he could see you now?"

"_Take your hands off my son, you bastard_!" a voice snarled suddenly.

_**A/N**: Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed!_

**Mocha Addict**: The story is finished so you'll be getting a chapter a day if that makes you feel any better:-)

**crystalpheonix**: Thank you. And the story is finished so I'll have a chapter a day for everyone until it's finished. And I'm glad you think Joe is cute, I love writing about Joe!

**Pen and Paper71**: It's cool that you think the story is fun, I had fun writing it!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Frank stood at the edge of the forest staring into the trees. In the darkening night, he saw the shadow of something large dart through the underbrush. Heart pounding, Frank tried to back away but a cry for help made him stop dead. The voice was Joe's!

"Joe!" Frank yelled as he started to run towards the forest. But something stopped him.

Joe screamed again and Frank struggled furiously against the iron grip that held him.

"Let me go!" he yelled. "I need to help my brother!"

The grip on Frank tightened. He couldn't breathe.

Joe screamed again, a horrible blood-curling scream, followed by a bone chilling silence.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Frank screamed. "I need to help my brother!"

"You're brother's dead!" a voice whispered in his ear. "And you killed him. You sent him out into the woods."

"No!" Frank sobbed. "No!"

"Yes," the voice said. "And you killed your mother too…"

A masked figure appeared in front of Frank, holding his mother.

"Mom!" Frank cried.

His mother smiled at him as the masked figure put a gun to her head.

"You did this," the voice taunted. "Your plan failed. It's all your fault."

"NO! NO! PLEASE!" Frank screamed and fought furiously against whatever was holding him.

The masked man pulled the trigger and there was a deafening bang. Frank's mother disappeared before his eyes.

"MOM!" The scream tore from Frank's throat.

The masked figure turned to face Frank and pointed the gun. Frank froze.

_This is all my fault_, he thought.

Frank heard the gunshot and then he was falling…

Frank shot up in bed, his heart thumping wildly. Glancing down, he saw his mother asleep beside him. _It was a dream_, he told himself, trying to breathe normally. _Just a dream._

Frank glanced at the window. He could see the first watery rays of the morning sun filtering through the glass.

_It's morning_, he realised. _They'll be here soon_.

Frank lay back down. He had already started to question his plan the night before, and the dream had rattled him. Now that the time had come to execute his plan, he was terrified.

What if it all went wrong?

Frank bit his lip and shook his head, trying to erase the brutal images that his dream had left him with. Tears welled up in his eyes and he felt his breathing hitch painfully in his throat. If anything happened to Joe or his mother because of his plan…

_No! _Frank scolded himself. _Don't think like that! It's too late to turn back now, you can do this._

Slowly, Frank regained control of his emotions. Everything had gone according to plan. Joe had had the whole night to get help before the kidnappers discovered he was gone. The basement was sealed up tight. Everything was as Frank had intended it. Things would be fine.

Just then, Frank heard footsteps coming towards the basement and quickly shut his eyes. He wanted the kidnappers to think he was still asleep.

Frank heard the click of the lock and then the door opened. Footsteps came towards the bed. He lay still, not daring to move.

"What the…" he heard a voice gasp. Footsteps moved hurriedly around the basement. Still Frank didn't move.

Seconds later, Frank heard the voice bellow, "TRENT! GET DOWN HERE! WE GOT A PROBLEM!"

Frank decided it was time to wake up. Moving his head slowly and yawning slightly, Frank rubbed his eyes. He heard heavy footsteps thunder downstairs to the basement and sat up slowly, pretending to blink as two more masked men rushed into the basement. One of them was carrying a gun.

"Are you crazy?" snarled the man with the gun. "What did I tell you? No names…"

"We've got bigger problems," interrupted the man nearest to the bed. Frank recognised him as the man with the English accent.

"What do you mean?" demanded the other man.

_The leader_, Frank realised feeling a slight shiver run down his back. This man scared him more than any of the others.

"The blond kid's gone!"

"What do you mean he's gone?" demanded the leader. "How could he be gone?"

"I don't know," the man with the English accent growled. "But he ain't here!"

Seeing Frank awake, the leader moved quickly to the bed. Frank did his best to look sleepy eyed.

The leader grabbed him by the collar and hauled him out of bed.

"Where's your brother?" he spat at Frank.

"I don't know," Frank lied.

"What do you mean you don't know!" The leader shook Frank roughly. "_Where is he_?"

"I don't know!" cried Frank fearfully. It had been part of his plan to act scared, but Frank was now realising that this was the one part of the plan that he wouldn't have to act.

The leader struck Frank hard across the face. "You'd better start talking and you'd better start talking now, or I'll make you _very_ sorry!" His last words were heavy with inflection and Frank gulped. "Where is your brother?"

"I d-don't know," gasped Frank. "One of the men took him to the bathroom last night and he never came back!"

"WHAT!" the leader roared and dropped Frank to the floor so quickly that he toppled backwards.

He whirled around to face the other two men. "Which of you did it? Where's the kid?"

The other two men didn't answer. Frank couldn't see their faces, but he could practically hear their shock in the ringing silence that followed the accusation.

Finally, one of them spoke. "I didn't come near the Hardys last night! Once they were fed, they were locked up and that was it!" It was the young voiced man.

"That kid's lying," snarled the man with the English accent.

The leader turned back and stared down at Frank who was cowering on the floor. "Where's your brother?" His voice was quiet, but it held a frightening menace. Frank started to shake a little.

"I don't know!" he whimpered. "He never came back." Frank looked at the other two men. This was it, he needed to make the leader believe one of them had done it. "Please," he implored, "where's my brother?"

The leader hit the roof. "YOU DIRTY DOUBLECROSSERS! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO PULL?"

"Nothing!" the man with the English accent insisted angrily. "Both kids and the woman were here last night when I checked on them. I'm telling you, that kid's lying!"

"If he's lying then where's the other kid?" demanded the leader. "'Cause he sure as hell didn't just walk out that door!"

Frank could hear the doubt and distrust in his voice.

The window then!" the man with the English accent shot back.

"I nailed that shut!" snapped the man with the young voice. "Look, I'll prove it to you!" He strode over to the window and tugged at it.

Frank prayed that the window would hold.

It did. "See?" said the young voiced man.

The leader was silent for several minutes, looking from one man to another. Finally, he turned again to Frank. "Which one of them was it?" he asked.

"What?" said Frank, confused.

"Which one of them was it? Which one of them took your brother?"

"I don't know," Frank told him.

"You're not a very bright kid, are you?" said the leader in a low growl. "It seems there's a lot you don't know!"

"I don't know! He was wearing a mask!" said Frank.

"We're all wearing masks!" snapped the leader.

"Then how am I supposed to know which one is which?" said Frank as he sniffed, playing up the little-boy-lost act.

The leader turned back to the other two men and raised his gun at them. "You two had better start talking, and you'd better start talking now! Where's that kid?"

The men started to yell at one another and Frank felt a little flutter of triumph. His plan was working. Not only were the men not looking for Joe, but they were arguing amongst themselves, doubting each other. Frank hoped that meant they would slip up when Joe arrived with help.

_If he arrives with help_.

The unsettling thought flashed in his mind as Frank remembered the dream.

_No! _Frank insisted silently. _Joe's fine. He got away. He'll get help_.

The men had forgotten Frank who was still sitting on the floor. Frank watched them continue to argue, his elation growing with every minute. The men were now too distracted to maintain their previous vigilance.

Suddenly, from behind him came a noise that made his heart sink. A groan.

Laura Hardy was waking up.

Frank turned to see his mother emerge from beneath the blankets, her eyes blurry with sleep and fever.

Laura tried to sit up. The shouting and yelling had permeated through the thick fog in her head and pulled her from a feverish torpor. She shook her head, disoriented and confused.

_What's going on?_

Harsh male voices sounded in her ear and made her throbbing head ache.

_Why don't they keep it down? _

Shivering, Laura wondered why she felt so cold. She opened her eyes and the room spun a little. Fighting a wave of dizziness, Laura sat up. After a few seconds, the room stopped spinning. Laura didn't recognise her surroundings. She was in a dingy basement.

Confused, Laura looked down and saw Frank sitting on the floor in front of her, his eyes wide with fear. Something broke through the fog in her head.

_Men_…

Laura looked in the direction of the harsh voices. Three masked men were yelling at one another, and one of them had a gun trained on the other two.

Their kidnappers.

Laura pulled herself out of her stupor. They were hostages. Her sons needed her. Laura looked down at Frank again and realised something.

"Frank, where's Joe?"

Her voice alerted the men to their presence once more, and they turned towards them. Laura ignored them. Her eyes frantically scanned the basement.

"Frank, where's Joe?" she demanded, her voice hoarse, but rising with every syllable.

"That's a very good question," growled the leader, his gun still pointing at the other men.

"What do you mean? Where is he? Where's my son?" Laura cried, as she tossed off the blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"No idea," growled the man with the English accent.

"WHAT?" cried Laura as she stood up, tottering unsteadily.

"Sit your ass back down, lady!" the leader snapped.

"I won't! Where's my son? Where is he?"

There was an edge of hysteria in her voice that frightened Frank. The leader looked far too trigger-happy to be dealing with his hysterical mother right now.

"Mom," he whispered. "Sit down! Please sit down!"

"What have you done with my son?" she demanded, moving towards the men.

"I said sit down!" shouted the leader as he swung his gun on Laura.

But Laura ignored him. Delirious with fever, panic and worry, she didn't even notice the gun.

"Mom, please!" Frank begged. His plan was falling apart, and he felt panic rise as the image from his dream entered his thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the masked men move towards the leader.

"You'd better sit down if you don't want to die!" the leader told her, cocking the trigger.

"NO!" screamed Frank, terrified, as he watched things spin out of control.

Laura paused, unsure, and looked back at Frank. The leader also glanced at him.

The distraction was all the other man needed. Lunging at the leader, he went for the gun.

They wrestled with one another, each one keeping a firm grip on the gun. The other man was yelling at them and, in all the chaos, Frank saw what his mother was going to do a split second too late.

"Mom! No!" he screamed as she grabbed for the gun.

Frank's heart shot into his throat with terror as he watched his mother wrestle with the men.

And then the gun went off.

Fenton Hardy stood staring at the scene before him.

He had only gone a few feet with the other men when he realised that he hadn't really said goodbye to Joe. The thought bothered him in light of all that had happened in the last two days, and Fenton had motioned to the others to stop and wait before running back to Joe. If anything happened to him, at least Joe's last memory of him wouldn't be one in which he was turning his back.

He had returned to discover his son struggling in the grip of a man Fenton thought he could trust; a police officer.

Fenton heard the man's words to Joe and bile rose in his throat.

"_Take your hands off my son, you bastard_!" he snarled.

Rawston and Joe looked up as Fenton stepped towards them. Joe was wild eyed with fear and Rawston looked furious.

"You came back," Rawston commented uselessly.

"Lucky I did!" Fenton said dangerously, taking another step towards them.

Rawston retreated, dragging Joe with him. "Stay there, Hardy, I'm warning you."

"_Rawston_?" an incredulous voice behind Fenton gasped. The detective turned to see Sheriff Coombs standing behind him, staring in shock at Rawston. He had returned to see where Fenton had gone.

"What's going on?" the sheriff demanded. "Fenton?"

"Damned if I know!" growled Fenton, not taking his eyes off Rawston or Joe.

JR continued to bark furiously in the back of the car.

Suddenly, Joe bit down hard on Rawston's fingers and he pulled his hand from Joe's mouth quickly. "Why you little…"

"Dad! He's one of the kidnappers!" Joe cried out.

Fenton and the sheriff's mouths dropped open in simultaneous shock.

"Rawston?" the sheriff spluttered. "_You're _the local man?"

"You'd better believe it!" Rawston sneered.

"But…_why_?" The sheriff couldn't understand it. Rawston had been his deputy for five years.

"WHY?" Rawston yelled. "Because I was sick of being your dogsbody! Sick of this damn town where everybody knows your business and nobody forgets your past! There's nowhere to hide in this town…but I found somewhere!" he added with a mad glint in his eye.

"How?" said the sheriff. "I just don't understand…"

"You're not supposed to, you fat bastard!" Rawston spat. "You stay where you are!" he yelled suddenly at Fenton who had been edging quietly away from the sheriff and out of Rawston's line of vision. "Or I'll break the kid's neck!"

Fenton stopped moving.

Rawston looked him directly in the eye. "The big man!" he jeered. "The great detective, Fenton Hardy, and I had him fooled!"

"And it looks like these men have you fooled," said Fenton in a low voice. "How did they talk you into all this? Blackmail? Bribery?"

Rawston gave another laugh that sent shivers down Joe's spine.

"You make bribery sound like a bad thing! Do you know the kind of money I'm getting for my help? More than enough to get me out of this town and set me up for life!"

"You think so?" said Fenton coldly. "How do you know they won't just kill you when they don't need you anymore?"

"Come off it!" Rawston scoffed. "I'm not going to be cowed by a line like that! They paid me cash up front! Why bother if they were going to kill me? Hardy, the only people they intend to kill is your family!"

Joe had been listening to this exchange with a growing sense of horror. It was finally dawning on him what these men might do to his mother and brother, what they _would_ do if his father didn't get there on time.

Rawston had not expected a child as small as Joe to be of any great threat to him, and had loosened his hold a little as he taunted Fenton.

Joe felt it slacken. Fuelled by the terror of what might happen to his mother and Frank, Joe twisted around quickly in Rawston's grip and kneed him hard in the groin. "Ooof!" gasped Rawston, releasing Joe and doubling forward in pain.

In blind panic, Joe swung his small fist at Rawston's face.

"Ow!" Joe cried as his fist collided with Rawston's nose and Rawston yelled in pain.

"You little…" Rawston screamed as he lurched at Joe.

But Joe's actions had given Fenton the time he needed to act. He was on Rawston in a second, knocking him to the ground.

"I don't think so!" Fenton snarled, as he pinned Rawston down and twisted his arm behind him. Rawston howled in pain.

"Sheriff, give me your handcuffs," said Fenton, just as Con, Jack and Tom raced towards them.

"What's going on?" demanded Con, taking in the scene before him.

Sheriff Coombs handed Fenton his handcuffs and turned to face Con. "It would seem that Rawston is the local man helping those thugs," he said grimly.

"What!" said Con. "How…"

"No time for explanations," said Fenton as he cuffed Rawston and hauled him to his feet. "We've wasted too much time. We have to get to the house. Sheriff, can you watch Rawston?"

"Sorry, Fenton, but I'm afraid I don't want to be held responsible for what I'll do if I'm left alone with this man," said Sheriff Coombs, an ugly look on his face.

"I'll do it," Tom offered.

"There's a spare pistol in the trunk of the patrol car," Sheriff Coombs told him. "You have my full permission to use it if this scum even puts one toe out of line!"

Tom nodded, walked to the patrol car and popped the trunk.

"If there's any spare handcuffs in there, bring them too," called Fenton. "We'll need something to subdue the others with."

"There's only three of them now," said Jack, watching Tom hand the spare cuffs to Fenton.

"We don't know that," said Fenton. "The safest thing to do is assume there's more, that way we can't be surprised. Ready?"

The others nodded and Fenton turned to Joe. "Are you okay?" he asked. He could see that Joe was near tears, but didn't want to cry in front of the other men.

"Yeah," Joe whispered, his voice tight.

"Good," said Fenton. "You were very brave, Joe. I'm very proud of you." Turning to Tom, he asked, "are you sure you can handle him?"

"Sure can," said Tom calmly, as he coolly aimed the gun at Rawston's trussed up figure. "Never did like you much, Rawston, always figured you were a no good son-of-a-gun!"

"Yeah, well, now he's evidence," growled Fenton. Stooping, he picked Joe up. "Let's go," he said to the men.

They looked at Joe, startled.

"Fenton, what…" Con began but Fenton cut him off.

"Joe's coming with us. No arguments."

Fenton turned and started to walk up the path.

Con looked at Sam, surprised, but Sam merely shrugged and started to follow Fenton.

"Better not to ask," he called to the others. Silently, they moved after them.

As they drew near the house, Fenton put Joe on the ground and knelt beside him.

"Joe, I'm heading in there to get your mom and Frank," he said. "But I need you to stay here. I want you to hide behind a tree and don't come out until I tell you, no matter what!"

Joe nodded, his heart thumping hopefully. Soon, his mother and brother would be safe.

"Good boy," said Fenton. "Which way is the basement?"

"Round the back," Joe whispered.

Fenton turned to the men. "First, we check that Frank and Laura are still locked in the basement and out of harm's way, then we surprise the kidnappers."

The men nodded their agreement and Fenton smiled grimly. "Okay, lets do it. Joe, get out of sight."

Once Joe was obscured from view, Fenton nodded to the other men and they moved silently towards the back of the house. They were almost there when the sound of a gun shot echoed from the basement.

_**A/N:** Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed. Feedback is always wonderful, and any writer I know thrives on it!_

**Soapymouth:** Actually, I do like Fenton. I just feel that in the books he can be a bit too career oriented and as I'm developing a Hardy Boys series, I wanted Fenton to have a nasty shock to make him appreciate his family more.

**MBsinger:** Thank you very much, I'm glad you like the story.

**Paperdaises:** I'm glad you think the chapters are action packed. And you're right, Joe sure manages to attract a lot of trouble!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Frank watched in horrified slow motion as the masked man who had been yelling from the side slumped to the floor. A little puddle of blood began to form beneath him, and the scuffle in the middle of the room stopped as everyone froze.

"Look what you've done!" the man with the English accent yelled at the leader, panic evident in his voice.

The leader ignored him, using the moment to wrench the gun from his and Laura's grasp. Quickly, he pistol whipped Laura across the temple before smashing her up against the wall. Laura collapsed in a heap on the ground.

"MOM!" Frank screamed and started towards his mother.

The leader grabbed him before he could reach her and twisted Frank's arm at a painful angle. The little boy cried out in pain.

"Oh God! Oh God!" the man with the English accent was muttering, as he knelt beside the injured masked man who was moaning in pain.

"Get up!" the leader ordered harshly.

The other man looked at him. "What?"

"You heard me!" snapped the leader. "Get up! We have work to do."

The man with the English accent didn't move.

"He's hurt! We need to get him to a hospital."

"And just how do you plan on getting him to a hospital without explaining what happened?" asked the leader in a cold voice.

"I don't know, but we can't just leave him here," said the man with the English accent.

"We can and we will," said the leader in a dangerous voice. "Take him to the hospital and you could lead the cops or Fenton Hardy straight to us. And I don't think Alan Troy would be very happy if that were to happen, do you?"

The other man gasped. "What are you doing? You're using names…"

"It doesn't matter now," the leader cut him off. "One kid's gone, _she_" - he indicated Laura - "is half-dead already and this kid knows my name. I'm afraid that none of the Hardys will be returning home. We just need to keep these two around long enough to control Hardy and hide the fact that we don't have the other kid anymore."

The leaders voice was calm and deliberate as he pronounced the fate of the Hardy family. Frank went rigid, too horrified to cry.

The other man spoke up at once. "No way! I didn't sign on for this! Kidnapping is one thing, but you're talking about murder."

"That's _exactly_ what you signed on for," the leader coldly informed him. "Did you really think Alan Troy would have let them return home to Daddy dearest after all he's done?"

"But…the masks…we didn't use names…" the other man spluttered. "What was the point if we were never going to let them live?"

"Because I wanted you and dumbass on the floor there to believe it!" the leader sneered. "I knew you two would have a problem with that element of the plan so I fudged a few facts. Of course, he's not really a problem anymore, is he?" He indicated the injured man who was still moaning on the floor.

The other man edged away from the leader towards the door of the basement. "Count me out," he said. "I want no part in this."

"Coward!" spat the leader, as he trained his gun on the other man. The other man stopped dead. "You're all talk, but when it comes to doing the dirty work, you want to run away like a little girl! But unfortunately for you, pal, that's not an option here. You're either in this all the way or you end up like him!"

The other man was silent. Frank could see that he had no idea what to do.

And neither had Frank.

He had been listening to the exchange between the two men with mounting terror, realising that there was no way out for him and his mother. They were dead. His plan had failed.

The other man edged a little closer to the door.

"Stay where you are," the leader warned him quietly, keeping his gun trained on him. He forced Frank forward where the boy could no longer see his mother; Laura and the injured kidnapper were now behind them.

"What are you doing?" asked the other man, apprehension in his voice as he eyed the gun.

"Do you know something?" said the leader, ignoring the question. "I don't like you, Johnny, and I don't trust you. You and that other dumbass wouldn't have been my first choice for this…but then, he didn't really want to do this, he needed a certain amount of _persuasion_!" The leader laughed coldly. "That's why I never trusted him either! And when the other kid went missing, I knew I was right. In fact, I'd be doing Mr. Troy a big favour if I wiped you both out now."

The leader took careful aim.

"Trent, please, no!" the other man begged.

Frank heard the click of the hammer being cocked somewhere above him and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see this.

"FREEZE!" he heard a familiar voice yell, and opened his eyes in shock.

Fenton Hardy stood framed in the doorway, his gun aimed straight at the man holding Frank.

Fenton Hardy stood in the doorway to the dank basement and attempted to keep his surging emotions under control.

Every terrifying thought, every horrifying emotion, had risen to the surface when he had heard the gunshot echo from the basement. It had taken every ounce of strength that Sam possessed to stop him from rushing straight down into the basement. Con had chanced a peek through the basement window and consoled Fenton with the news that it was one of the kidnappers who had been shot. He had neglected to tell Fenton that Laura Hardy was also lying on the floor.

The men had then snuck around to the front of the house and composed an emergency plan. Sam and Jack would remain outside, both to prevent any escapes and to surprise the kidnappers if necessary. Fenton, Con and Sheriff Coombs would enter the house and confront them.

They had entered the house and moved silently towards the basement. Hearing the end of the kidnappers' conversation, Fenton felt his alarm rise. He wasn't sure what had caused the argument, but if this man was prepared to shoot one of his own, then Frank and Laura could be next.

Fenton couldn't let that happen.

He moved into view while gesturing to Con and Sheriff Coombs to remain hidden.

"FREEZE!" he yelled as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

The sight turned his blood to ice. The injured kidnapper lay just behind the kidnapper with the gun, blood pooling out slowly beneath him. Laura lay a few feet away from him and was out of the line of fire.

But Frank was directly in it.

"_Hardy_?" the leader gasped and quickly aimed the gun at Frank's head. "Make one move and I'll blow his brains out!"

The man with the gun had the child's arm twisted up at a painful angle and Fenton could see the small face contorted in pain.

Fenton knew he had to keep his cool. His family's lives depended on it.

"It's over, let him go," said Fenton quietly, his gun steady.

"You think so?" the man sneered. "And it hasn't occurred to you that there are others?"

"We've already got Rawston," Fenton calmly informed him.

Frank was sure he heard the man's jaw drop behind his mask.

The leader recovered quickly. "Rawston's not the only one. Where do you think your other kid is?"

Fenton said nothing. He knew that Joe was safe and that the kidnapper was just trying to cow him into submission.

The leader also maintained a steadfast silence, his grip on Frank unwavering.

It was the man with the English accent who finally broke the silent stalemate.

"Trent, come on, let the kid go," he pleaded. "We're done for kidnapping, let's not go down for murder as well."

"Don't be stupid! We're not done, it's two against one," the leader reminded him.

"Actually," said Fenton, as Con and Sheriff Coombs stepped into view, "it's three against two."

The leader gave a strangled howl of anger. "Yeah? Well, we've still got _him_!"

He yanked Frank's arm higher, causing the boy to whimper in pain.

"Trent," said the other man, his voice now a high-pitched whine. "I don't want to go down for murder."

"Shut up!" the leader hissed. "What do you think Scott lying on the floor is? You were trying to take the gun from me…for all I know, you could have pulled the trigger!"

"I never touched the trigger!" the other man shot back. "And there's no way I'm taking the fall for murder, not for you!" He raised his hands. "I surrender."

"Fool," the leader mocked him. "Give in now and you're a dead man. If you go to jail, I guarantee there will be people there who won't take the chance that you'll talk."

"So you think he should die here instead?" Fenton cut in suddenly. "Because I guarantee that's what will happen if anything happens to my son!"

The man with the English accent glanced at Fenton. "I'll take my chances with them," he said, jerking a thumb at Fenton, Con and the sheriff.

"Then you'll lose," said the leader dangerously.

The other man ignored him and walked towards the sheriff, his hands raised.

Suddenly, and without warning, the leader fired at him. Soundlessly, the man dropped to the floor, blood oozing from his head.

Frank screamed in fright and Fenton moved towards them.

"Stay where you are!" the leader shouted, his gun against Frank's head once more.

"Let him go!" Fenton repeated, as Con knelt beside the other man and took his pulse.

"Dead," he said, shaking his head.

The leader emitted a low pitched laugh and Fenton felt terror rise in his throat. This man was losing control; he could see it in his actions and hear it in his voice.

"It's over," said Fenton, as he tried to mask the fear in his voice. "Let him go. Frank's just a child, he has nothing to do with this."

"I told you before, Hardy," snapped the leader, "your family have everything to do with this! They're your weakest link, my way to Tim Hanley…and if I can't have what I want then I'll snap that link!"

The leader increased the pressure against Frank's temple. "Say good-bye to your son, Fenton!"

"NO!" screamed Fenton, as Con and the sheriff began to yell.

Above them, they could hear Sam and Jack crashing through the house and down to the basement.

With all the attention focused on Fenton and the leader, no one had noticed when the inert mass on the floor began to stir. As all hell broke lose, the bloody figure of the fourth and final man rose up behind the leader.

Fenton only saw him seconds before he brought a crashing blow down on the leader's skull that sent him crumbling to the floor, Frank buried beneath him.

"Frank!" yelled Fenton as he jumped forward and tried to pull the unconscious man off his son. He could hear the boy's terrified screams muffled beneath the body.

Sam was by his side in a second, rolling the man off Frank.

"Frank," said Fenton, as he gently lifted the trembling child off the floor. "Are you okay?"

Frank, his face buried in his father's shoulder, nodded.

Fenton tried to calm the violently shaking child. "It's alright, Frankie, it's okay. It's all over, you're safe now," he said softly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jack and the sheriff accost the swaying masked man. Sam was handcuffing the unconscious leader.

His eyes strayed to Laura, who remained in a heap on the floor. Fenton's heart leapt painfully into his throat.

_Laura! Oh God, please let her be alright_…

Con saw his anguished gaze and was by the unconscious woman in a flash. Dropping to his knees, he quickly took her pulse.

He nodded to Fenton. "I've got a pulse. But we need to get her to the hospital."

Fenton swallowed and glanced at the shaking mess in his arms, feeling torn. He badly wanted to comfort his traumatised child, but he also desperately wanted to gather his wife in his arms and see for himself that she really was alive.

It was Sam who took the decision out of his hands.

He knelt beside Fenton and gently clasped Frank's shoulder. "Frank?" he said softly.

Frank looked at him through red, tear filled eyes. "Frank, I think you've just about been the bravest boy I've ever seen today. Would you do me the honour of helping me lead the bad guys out of here?"

Frank wiped his eyes and nodded. "'Kay," he mumbled.

"Good boy," smiled Sam as he stood up and held out his hand. "Lead the way, Frank."

With one last uncertain glance at his father who nodded encouragingly, Frank took Sam's hand and they exited the basement. Sheriff Coombs and Jack followed closely behind them, half carrying the injured kidnapper.

Con remained behind, guarding the unconscious leader.

Fenton moved swiftly to his wife. Reaching down, he grasped her wrist and breathed an audible sigh of relief when he felt a faint pulse. His relief turned to alarm, however, when he touched her cheek and felt how icy cold it was. Quickly he stripped off his jacket and wrapped her in it, before lifting her up in his arms.

He looked at Con who was watching him carefully. "Con, I…"

"Get to the hospital," said Con, before he could finish. "We can take care of things here until the police arrive. Laura and the boys need you more."

Fenton smiled a wordless flash of gratitude at Con and quickly carried Laura up the stairs.

Outside, the sheriff and Jack were tending to the injured kidnapper in the black van belonging to the kidnappers. Fenton could see he was bleeding heavily.

"He needs the hospital, Fenton," said Sam, appearing at his side, Frank in tow. "The sheriff and Jack are going to take him in the van. I'll stay here with Con and watch Mr. Big-Shot downstairs."

Fenton could hear the disgust in Sam's voice.

"Dad," Frank spoke up suddenly, his voice shaky. "We need to find Joe, he's out in the woods somewhere!"

"No, he's not, Frank," said Fenton gently, then raised his voice, "JOE! It's okay, you can come out now!"

Joe did not emerge from behind the tree.

"JOE!" Fenton called again, exchanging worried looks with Sam. Had something else happened?

Sam set off in a jog towards the spot where they had left Joe hiding.

"Frank, stay here," Fenton cautioned, as his older son showed signs of taking off after Sam.

Frank bit his lip worriedly.

Minutes later, Sam emerged from behind the tree, with a small blond figure walking in front of him rubbing his eyes.

"It's okay," he called. "He fell asleep!"

_Fell asleep? _Fenton frowned. He would have to get that lump on Joe's head checked out at the hospital.

"Joe!" Frank yelled, delight written all over his face.

"Frank!" Joe whooped, and raced the remaining few feet across the grass and flung himself at his older brother.

The two little boys hugged fiercely and Fenton felt a lump form in his throat.

_I nearly lost them all_, he thought.

It didn't bear thinking about.

"Fenton," Jack called, from where he was standing by the van. "Come on, we'll bring you and your family as far as the other cars. You can take them to the hospital in Tom's car."

"And Tom can have the pleasure of taking Rawston in!" spat the sheriff. "He's been telling me for years that rat's no good! I'll send out the boys to collect that other thug as soon as we reach the hospital."

Fenton nodded and climbed in to the front seat of the van, Laura still in his arms. He was amazed at how light she felt. Sam lifted the boys up beside him, while Jack climbed in behind the wheel. The sheriff was already in the back with the kidnapper.

As the van pulled out, Fenton glanced at his unconscious wife and felt a tremor of fear. _Would Laura be alright?_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Just over an hour after the dramatic rescue, Fenton was impatiently pacing the floor in the hospital waiting room. Frank sat quietly on a chair in the corner.

Laura had been whisked away by the doctors seconds after they had entered the hospital, as had the injured kidnapper. The man was now in surgery, and even though Fenton was quite ready to smash his face in for what he had done to his family, he did feel some level of gratitude to the man. After all, he had saved Frank's life.

Fenton glanced at his oldest son. Frank was pale and stared despondently at the floor as he swung his legs and kicked his chair.

Fenton thought he had heard Frank's small voice whispering, "please be okay" as Laura was loaded onto a gurney and wheeled away. Seconds later, when a sleepy Joe had also been wheeled away, Fenton was positive he had heard Frank say, "I'm sorry."

He hadn't said a word since.

The doctors had examined Frank, and found him to be tired and shocked but otherwise unharmed.

Fenton knew that wasn't true. There was something wrong, and it wasn't just the trauma of the past forty-eight hours. Something was obviously bothering Frank.

Fenton could see it when Frank refused to look him in the face.

_Does he blame me? _Fenton wondered.

He had made several attempts to talk to Frank, but Frank had only nodded or shook his head in answer to his father's questions. He was being unnaturally quiet, even for Frank.

"Frank, do you want something to eat?" asked Fenton, and watched as Frank shook his head and continued to kick his chair.

Fenton's heart thudded with worry. He sincerely hoped Frank's silence was due to nothing more than anger at his father. He would rather have Frank angry at him than see him suffer any after effects of his ordeal.

What Fenton didn't realise was that a war was raging in Frank's head, one that had been increasing in momentum ever since they had got into the van, and it had nothing to do with his father.

"Fenton Hardy?" a voice called, and Fenton looked up to see an elderly doctor with glasses and greying hair step into the waiting room.

"That's me," said Fenton as he hurried over to speak with the Doctor. "How are Laura and Joe?"

"Joe will be fine," the Doctor smiled. "We've stitched his hand and given him a short IV of antibiotics just in case of infection because the wound was open so long. He doesn't have a concussion, although there is some swelling and we'd like to keep him in overnight for observation, just to be sure. Aside from that, he's just exhausted."

"What about Laura?" Fenton asked anxiously.

The Doctor's smile faded. "I'm afraid I wasn't the one treating your wife. If you want, I can find out if there's any news while you go in and see Joe?"

"Thanks, Doctor, I'd appreciate that," said Fenton.

"It's Doctor Kelly," smiled the Doctor as they shook hands. "Follow me, Joe's room is right down here." The Doctor started to walk down the corridor and Fenton moved swiftly after him. Frank followed silently.

They entered Joe's room to find him awake and playing with the button that raised his bed up and down. He looked up as they walked in and his face split in a huge grin.

"Dad! Frank! You've got to see what this bed does!" Joe exclaimed, as he demonstrated for them.

"Very good, Joe," Fenton smiled a little, as Frank sat up on the bed beside Joe. "But I don't think the doctors would like you playing with the bed like that in case you break it, and you should probably sit back and rest anyway."

Joe made a face but did as his father suggested.

"How's Mom?" he asked.

"Just fine," Fenton lied, not wanting to upset either boy. Joe smiled and turned to face his brother.

"Look, Frank," he said, as he waved his right hand in front of his brother's face. "I got stitches, just like in the movies! Isn't that cool?"

Fenton was surprised that Joe didn't seem to feel any pain, but rationalised that the Doctors must have given him something for it.

His eyes drifted to the door for some sign of the Doctor who had gone to check on Laura. His stomach knotted painfully as he silently fretted about his wife.

Several seconds had passed when Fenton suddenly heard Joe exclaim behind him, "Frank, what's wrong?"

Fenton looked back at the bed and saw Joe kneeling on the bed covers trying to lift Frank's face. Frank was resolutely staring at the bed, his shoulders shaking a little.

"Frank!" cried Joe. "Look at me!"

Fenton moved over beside Frank and put his fingers under his chin and lifted his head. Huge tears were running down his face.

"Frank," said Fenton, alarmed. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I-I'm s-sorry," Frank stuttered out.

"Sorry? For what?" Fenton was baffled.

"This is all m-my f-fault!" Frank choked.

"What? No it isn't!" Joe exclaimed.

"Of course it isn't. Frank, why would you think that?" said Fenton, as he hugged Frank.

"I'm the o-one who came up w-with the idea t-to send Joe out and he hit his head," Frank sniffed. "And t-then the kidnappers g-got mad and M-mom got hurt and s-someone got s-shot! So it's all m-my fault!" Frank hiccupped as he finished.

"It most certainly is not your fault, Frank," said Fenton gently but firmly. "The blame lies solely with those men!"

_And me_, Fenton added silently to himself.

"B-but Mom or Joe wouldn't be hurt and that man wouldn't have gotten s-shot if it hadn't b-been for me," said Frank miserably.

"And none of you would be here safe with me now if it hadn't been for you," Fenton reminded him gently. "I'd never have found you if you hadn't come up with that plan, Frank, and I'm very proud of you for coming up with it in such a scary situation." Fenton hugged Frank tightly and turned to Joe who was watching wide-eyed as his big brother lost control. "And I'm very proud of you too, Joe. That was a very brave thing you did, going out into the woods like that."

"It was Frank's idea," said Joe proudly. "Dad, he was just like MacGyver!"

"Did you hear that, Frank?" said Fenton as Frank pulled away. "Joe thinks you were just like MacGyver!"

Frank nodded and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "S-so it's really not m-my fault?"

"Duh, silly!" said Joe, punching him on the shoulder. "You're a hero!"

"You're both heroes," smiled Fenton.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Fenton turned around to see Doctor Kelly and another doctor standing there. The other Doctor was younger, but seemed less kindly and more serious than Doctor Kelly.

"Frank, Joe, stay here. I'll be back in a minute," said Fenton. He crossed to the door and beckoned to the Doctors to step outside, before pulling the door shut behind him.

"Mr. Hardy," said Doctor Kelly. "This is Doctor Knowles. He's been treating your wife."

"How's Laura?" Fenton asked anxiously.

"She's quite ill," Doctor Knowles began. "She has a temperature of a hundred and five, and quite a severe concussion. We had to sedate her as she was rather delusional with fever and we were afraid of further head trauma. At the moment she's in the ICU, but she will be moved to a private room sometime tomorrow. We'll need to keep her in for several days for observation, but I expect her to make a full recovery."

"Can I see her?" Fenton asked.

"You may," said Doctor Knowles. "Just for a short while though. And I'm afraid your sons will have to wait until tomorrow, children aren't allowed in the ICU."

"I'm just going in to check on Joe," said Doctor Kelly. "If you want, I can tell the boys where you've gone?"

"It's okay," said Fenton. "I'll tell them. But thank you, Doctor, for everything."

Half an hour later, Fenton returned to Joe's room to find Frank and Joe asleep in Joe's bed, their arms around one another. Fenton didn't have the heart to wake them. And neither, it seemed, did the nurse who stuck her head in and smiled at the two sleeping figures.

For several minutes, Fenton sat watching his sons sleep. He had nearly lost his whole family in just a few short days, and that thought chilled Fenton to the core.

Fenton was starting to realise that if he had lost them, he would have had precious few memories to look back on.

_Never again, _he vowed. _From now on, my family comes first!_

His musings were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Fenton turned and saw Sam Radley smiling at him. Quietly Fenton joined Sam in the hall.

"Everything alright?" asked Sam.

"Fine," Fenton nodded. "Laura needs to stay in for a few days, but they'll release Joe tomorrow."

"That's good news," said Sam. "I'm glad, Fenton."

"Where's Con?"

"On the phone to Chief Collig trying to explain why he's up here and not at work," Sam grinned. "But he hasn't had much luck trying to get a full sentence out yet!"

I'm going to have to talk to Chief Collig," said Fenton. "Con was a big help in all this.

Sam nodded his agreement.

"So, what happened after we left?" asked Fenton.

Sam's smile faded. "Well, the leader turned out to be Trent Keller," he said grimly.

"What!" gasped Fenton.

Trent Keller was a Mafia hit man, and number three on the FBI's most wanted list. Fenton felt a momentary stab of terror at what could have happened to his family at the hands of this man.

"Apparently, he was hired by Alan Troy to use your family to get to Tim Hanley through you," Sam continued.

"And Keller actually _told_ you this?" said Fenton.

"Nah," Sam grinned. "Keller's got his mouth sealed tighter than a Swiss vault. Rawston started talking as soon as he realised their plan had collapsed. He told us everything. Incidentally," Sam added, "that kidnapper who got shot is just a twenty-one year old kid!"

"Twenty-one!" said Fenton incredulously. "How'd he get mixed up in all of this?"

"His name's Scott Mason," Sam answered. "And according to Rawston he was blackmailed into pulling this job."

"Blackmailed?"

"Yeah, Rawston said it was something to do with a job he pulled once, but didn't know the details," said Sam. "And they threatened his family. Apparently he has a young wife and a baby girl."

"Nice guys," concluded Fenton in disgust.

"It explains why he conked Keller." Sam shook his head. "I feel pretty sorry for him."

"I don't," said Fenton, a little harshly.

Sam looked up in surprise.

"He still helped to kidnap my family and hold them hostage," Fenton explained softly.

"And he helped save them too," Sam reminded him.

"Which means his own family is in danger of reprisals once that little snippet of information gets out." Fenton grimaced.

"Probably."

"I'll look into getting some protection for them," sighed Fenton. "Then we're even and I don't have to feel bad about hating the guy."

Sam nodded in silent understanding.

Fenton frowned thoughtfully. "But why go through all the trouble of blackmailing someone into this. Wouldn't hired muscle have been easier?"

"Apparently, Alan Troy didn't want to use anyone connected to him in case anything went wrong," Sam answered. "And there weren't a lot of thugs who fit that criteria."

"But why go to all that trouble only to tell them anyway that Alan Troy was involved?" argued Fenton. "That makes no sense."

Sam shrugged. "According to Rawston, once they heard Tim Hanley was involved, they all put two and two together."

"What's Rawston's story?" asked Fenton. "Why'd he get caught up in all of this?"

"The dead kidnapper's name was Johnny Ward, and he was an old acquaintance of Rawston's," Sam explained. "Once Ward found out where your family were going for their vacation, he suggested using Rawston to Keller. His idea was that a local man would come in useful."

"And I suppose Rawston jumped at the chance?" said Fenton in disgust.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, they offered him a lot of money. From what I can gather, Rawston and Keller seem to have really got on."

Fenton snorted angrily. "I'll bet. Tom was right about Rawston, he's a real piece of work!"

"According to Sheriff Coombs, Rawston used to be a decent guy," said Sam. "He was a bit of a small town hero when it came to football, even had a chance at a football scholarship. But coming home from work one night he fell asleep at the wheel and caused an accident. Destroyed his right knee and ruined any chance at a scholarship. Worse, he killed the driver of the other car and put a small child in the hospital. There's been a lot of bad feelings towards Rawston in the town since and the sheriff said he's always been pretty bitter about that. I guess he saw that money as his way out."

"Well, he got his way out," said Fenton grimly. "Just not in the way he expected."

Sam nodded in agreement.

"Anything else I need to know?" asked Fenton.

"No, that's pretty much it," Sam answered. "But don't you want to question them yourself?"

"No." Fenton shook his head, surprising Sam. "I'm taking some time off. I want you to handle this case and close on the Hanley one."

"Okay," said Sam, not voicing his surprise. "I'm just going to head back down to the Sheriff's office to tie up some loose ends, but I'll drop by again later."

Fenton nodded. "Thanks, Sam. For everything."

That next morning, Fenton was sitting beside Laura when she started to wake up.

"Wher-m I?" she mumbled drowsily.

"Laura?" said Fenton as he hovered over her anxiously.

"Fenton?" Laura looked confused. "Wh-what's happening?"

You're in the hospital," said Fenton gently. "How do you feel?"

"Hospital?" Laura looked dazed. "But those men…Frank! Joe!"

Panicked, Laura tried to sit up but Fenton gently pushed her back. "Easy, Laura, the boys are fine. Sam is going to bring them up shortly to see you."

Laura lay back down, her face a mask of confusion. "Sam is here? Fenton, what happened?

In a low voice, Fenton told Laura everything that had happened.

When he was finished, Laura spoke up. "They really did all that? Fenton, are you sure they're all right?"

"Positive," Fenton assured her, as he gently took her hand. "They're dying to see you. And you still haven't answered my question, how are you feeling?"

"Not great," Laura admitted.

"I'm not surprised," said Fenton. His eyes lingered on her pale face.

Laura stared at the bed covers in silence for several minutes. Finally, she spoke. "Will the young kidnapper be alright?"

"He'll be fine," said Fenton, surprised. "But why do you want to know?"

"He stood up for me and the boys," said Laura softly. "I knew there was something different about him and now I know what it was. He didn't want to be there."

"He didn't have to be," said Fenton shortly.

"Yes he did. His family's lives were being threatened."

Fenton felt a wave of guilt at Laura's words. "Laura, I'm sorry. This is all my fault! I should have been there. You were right about me putting my work before you and the boys, but I swear that'll never happen again. You and the boys mean everything to me and when I nearly lost you…" Fenton trailed off and stared at his wife.

Laura gazed back unhappily at him. "You say that now, but what happens when another case comes along and you go rushing off?"

"Not anymore. My family will always be my first priority from now on."

Laura didn't answer.

"I'll even give up detective work if you want," said Fenton quietly.

"NO!" two little voices exclaimed suddenly from the door.

Laura and Fenton glanced over to see Frank, Joe and Sam standing there. Frank and Joe were staring, horrified, at Fenton.

"I think I'll go for a coffee," said Sam discreetly as he slipped away.

The boys ignored Sam, their gaze on their father.

"Dad, you can't give up Detective work," said Frank.

"Yeah," Joe added. "Who'll get rid of all the bad guys?"

"There are other detectives and policemen who'll catch the bad guys," said Fenton.

"None of them are as good as you," Frank replied quickly.

Fenton's heart soared a little at his son's praise. "But, Frank, if I weren't a detective then I'd be home all the time."

Frank and Joe glanced at each other then entered the room. They stopped in front of their father.

"Dad," said Frank as he gazed up at Fenton. "It's okay that you go away sometimes, just not all the time. Can't you be a detective and be at home sometimes too?"

"Besides," Joe chimed in, "no one else in school has a real live hero for a dad!"

Fenton swallowed. His heart was nearly bursting at his sons' words.

He turned to Laura and looked her straight in the eyes. "Honey, it's up to you. What would make you happy?"

Laura glanced from the tired face of her husband to the anxious faces of her sons. "What would make me happy is to see all my men happy," she smiled. "I'm with Frank and Joe, Fenton. I don't want you to give up Detective work, it's part of who you are. All I've ever wanted is for you to make time for your family as well."

Fenton stared at his wife. She smiled at him. "Don't look so surprised, Fenton. I kind of like having a hero for a husband!"

Fenton laughed, as Frank and Joe climbed onto the bed to hug their mother.

"I guess it's decided then," Fenton said.

Watching his family embrace happily, Fenton smiled and added, "Laura, don't forget that your sons are heroes too."

Frank and Joe beamed.

"They sure are," Laura agreed. "I'm the luckiest woman in the world to have so many heroes in my life."

As Fenton embraced his wife and sons, he silently thanked the powers that be for giving him a second chance with his family.

It was one he intended not to waste.

_**A/N:** Well, that's it. I hope you all enjoyed it. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed._

**classacte:** Thanks! Hope you enjoyed the final chapters. My next story is already written, although it's much darker than this.

**Cutiepie2191:** Thanks so much! Glad you enjoyed the story, hope you enjoy the next one as much.

**The Silent Rumble:** Thanks. And don't be sad that it's over; I have another HB story (which I actually prefer to this one) so I hope you enjoy that!


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